Scout: An Apocalypse Story

(set: $individualism to 1)(set: $collectivism to 1)(set: $mind to 1)(set: $body to 1)(set: $playful to 1)(set: $serious to 1)(set: $individualism to 1)(set: $risk to 1)(set: $norisk to 1)“Rise and shine, scout!” You groan and roll over on your front, pulling your blanket over your head to block the faint rays of sunlight that are starting to seep through the slats in your roof. $ezra, unperturbed, tries again. “Oomph,” you blurt as you feel $ezra’s weight settle on your back. “Sitting on top of me seems counterproductive to your goal here,” you mumble into the mattress. “My goal is to annoy you into action.” “Well, fair play then.” You begin to rustle under the sheets. $ezra, confident in victory, lifts $himself off your mattress with some effort. You sit up in bed, rubbing your closed eyelids, and stretch your hand up for assistance. $ezra holds your grasp and [[lifts.]]

“Quick coffee and then we’ll get out of here? I’m not really in the mood for a lecture this morning,” $ezra says, retreating into the room that serves as the kitchen. It’s the only other room in the shack, so it’s technically the kitchen, living room, and dining room. Wait, you might be over your electric ration for this month. “Hey $ezra...” (link: "“Don’t leave the pot on too long.” You don’t want to take more than your share.")[(set: $collectivism to it +1)(goto: "don't leave")] (link: "“Never mind.” You’ll be fine being over this month. Maybe next month too.")[(set: $individualism to it +1)(goto: "nevermind")]

What are your pronouns? (link-reveal: "She/her")[(set: $ms to "Ms.")(set: $she to "she")(set: $She to "She")(set: $her to "her")(set: $Her to "Her")(set: $hers to "her")(set: $herself to "herself")(set: $woman to "woman")(goto: "name enter")] (link-reveal: "He/him")[(set: $ms to "Mr.")(set: $she to "he")(set: $She to "He")(set: $her to "him")(set: $hers to "his")(set: $Her to "Him")(set: $herself to "himself")(set: $woman to "man")(goto: "name enter")] (link-reveal: "They/them")[(set: $ms to "Mx.")(set: $she to "they")(set: $She to "They")(set: $her to "them")(set: $hers to "their")(set: $Her to "Them")(set: $herself to "themself")(set: $woman to "adult")(goto: "name enter")]

(set: $name to "Kai")(set: $name to (prompt: "What is your first name?", "")) (set: $lastname to "Halloway")(set: $lastname to (prompt: "What is your last name?", "")) (goto: "gender of switch")

Scout name: $name $lastname Pronouns: $she/$her Best friend: $ezra Taylor, a $man and fellow scout in the Community. Is this correct? [[Yes.]] [[No. I want to start over.]]

My best friend is a... (link-reveal: "Woman")[(set: $ezra to "Elle")(set: $mr to "Ms.")(set: $he to "she")(set: $He to "She")(set: $his to "her")(set: $hiss to "hers")(set: $His to "Her")(set: $him to "her")(set: $himself to "herself")(set: $man to "woman")(goto: "sex confirm")] (link-reveal: "Man")[(set: $ezra to "Ezra")(set: $mr to "Mr.")(set: $he to "he")(set: $He to "He")(set: $his to "his")(set: $His to "His")(set: $him to "him")(set: $hiss to "his")(set: $himself to "himself")(set: $man to "man")(goto: "sex confirm")]

(unless: (passage:)'s tags contains "no-header")[ [[SAVE]] | [[LOAD]] | [[SCOUT PROFILE]] | (link-repeat: "RESTART")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(reload:)] ]

(if: $start is 1)[<big>COUNCIL REPORT</big> SCOUT PROFILE NAME: $name $lastname AGE: 24 TRAVELED TO COMMUNITY FROM: Northwest USA(if: $skincolor is "dark brown" or "caramel" or "olive" or "beige" or "ivory")[ APPEARANCE: Scout $lastname can be recognized around the Community by $hers $eyecolor eyes, $hairlength $haircolor hair and $skincolor skin tone.] TEAM PROFILE TEAM MEMBERS: Lead Scout Oliver Shen; Scout $ezra Taylor(if: $position is "Navigator" or "Historian" or "Scientist" or "Healer" or "ivory")[ POSITION: $position](if: $weapon is "bow" or "knife" or "ax" or "spear")[ COMBAT: $name has shown significant skills in hand-to-hand and weaponry combat. Preferred weapon is (if: $weapon is "ax")[an $weapon.](if: $weapon is "bow" or "knife" or "spear")[a $weapon.]] PERSONALITY PROFILE Scout $lastname is an extremely skilled scout and academic. $lastname displays high levels of intelligence and competence. Could prove incredibly useful, but can be unpredictable. (if: $collectivism > $individualism)[ Scout $lastname illustrates the value of a collectivist mindset in the Community. $lastname puts other Community members first and makes a significant effort to know and support all members.](else-if: $individualism > $collectivism)[ Scout $lastname displays a worrying preference for individualist thought and behavior. Sometimes disconnected from the Community at large.](if: $mind > $body)[ Scout $lastname prefers to deploy $hers intellectual skillset before $hers physical or combative strength.](else-if: $body > $mind)[ Scout $lastname appears to favor $hers physical or combative strengh as opposed to $hers known intellectual skillset, particularly in conflict-solving.](if: $risk > $norisk)[ Scout $lastname has a troublesome history of risk-taking behavior, even to $hers own detriment.](else-if: $norisk > $risk)[ Scout $lastname is known to be particularly risk-averse and cautious, especially when $hers extended scouting team is not present for support.](if: $playful > $serious)[ Scout $lastname has unfortunately shown an inappopriate playful and facetious attitude in $hers scouting work.](else-if: $serious > $playful)[ Scout $lastname is known for $hers often serious demeanor.] (link-goto: "RETURN TO STORY", $lastpassage)](else:)[PLEASE START A NEW GAME TO ACCESS THE SCOUT PROFILE (link-goto: "RETURN TO STORY", $lastpassage)]

“Easy on letting the coffee pot run for too long. I may be a little over on my ration this month,” you call out. “‘Kay.” You move quickly now, an imminent lecture becoming clearer in your mind’s eye. You strip off your sleeping clothes as you walk and flip open the cap of a large jug of water at your feet. No time to heat the water this morning. You step into the shallow tub in the corner of the room, cleaning yourself as fast and thoroughly as possible. You like the soap this month. It smells nicer than last month. More floral and less like chemicals. You throw your usual scouting clothes on, long sleeves and pants to cover any exposed skin. You’ll sweat right through them, as always, but a bad burn or a nasty scrape is inarguably worse. $ezra saunters back in as you’re tying your boots. “See? Perfectly on time.” You grin. $ezra hands you a mug. “Drink and walk?” $he suggests. (link: "“Let's do it.”")[(goto: "Let's do it.")]

You lift the flap at the front of your home and walk out into the morning. It’s already sweltering this early – a bad sign for the scout. It will be intolerable by midday. As painful as it is to wake up at dawn, you have to admit this is your favorite part of a scouting day. Most of the community is asleep, save for a few early risers tending to their gardens or getting a head start on the laundry. You pause and breathe deeply, a moment of peace. “Ready?” $ezra asks, smiling in your direction. $He knows you love the early morning calm of the hot season. $He knows most things about you. This morning is one of many mornings spent with $ezra, preparing for a scout or a training or a holiday festival. You both arrived at this community at about the same time, by your lonesome, you eleven and $him twelve. (link-goto: "Loop your arm through $hiss as you walk.", "Arm loop") [[Stroll next to each other.]] (link-goto: "Beat $him to the meeting point.", "Race")

“Never mind." You move quickly now, an imminent lecture becoming clearer in your mind’s eye. You strip off your sleeping clothes as you walk and flip open the cap of a large jug of water at your feet. No time to heat the water this morning. You step into the shallow tub in the corner of the room, cleaning yourself as fast and thoroughly as possible. You like the soap this month. It smells nicer than last month. More floral and less like chemicals. You throw your usual scouting clothes on, long sleeves and pants to cover any exposed skin. You’ll sweat right through them, as always, but a bad burn or a nasty scrape is inarguably worse. $ezra saunters back in as you’re tying your boots. “See? Perfectly on time.” You grin. $ezra hands you a mug. “Drink and walk?” $he suggests. (link: "“Let's do it.”")[(goto: "Let's do it.")]

You loop your free hand in the crux of $ezra’s elbow, holding your mug firm in your other hand. You keep a steady walking pace, squeezing $his arm intermittently. You have always been close, but this physical intimacy is somewhat new. Linked arms and interlaced fingers. That recent thing where $ezra will rest $his chin on your shoulder. You try not to think on it too much. It feels like something you could ruin if you stare it in the (link-goto: "face.", "morning")

You match $ezra’s pace as you walk, careful not to spill your coffee. You are both silent, breathing in the morning air. $ezra is one of the only people in your life that you feel this comfortable, this at ease, (link-goto: "with.", "morning")

“Don’t want to hold you up before your scout today,” Grandpa Jones says, stepping in front of you both and, effectively, holding you up. “Oliver’d kill me.” It’s well known that Oliver has intolerably high expectations for the scouting teams he leads. You and $ezra have been the only scouts who have lasted more than six months with him at the head. On days when you’re feeling generous towards your team leader, you have to give him credit for your continual success. “Just wanted to ask if you two’d keep an eye out for any fertilizer today during the scout. My garden could really use it,” Grandpa Jones says and winks. “Anything'll do. Damp soil, dead vegitation, animal remains." (link: "“You know we can't really take personal requests.”")[(set: $individualism to it +1)(set: $serious to it +1)(goto: "personal requests")] (link-goto: "Let $ezra respond.", "respond") (link: "“We'll keep our eyes peeled.”")[(set: $collectivism to it +1)(goto: "eyes peeled")]

“Grandpa Jones, you know we can’t really take personal requests.” You try to sound apologetic. “I know, I know. But still.” Grandpa Jones winks, (link-goto: "unperturbed.", "coffee")

“You know we always look out for you and your garden.” $ezra winks. “As long as you keep that fresh mint tea coming.” Grandpa Jones laughs so hard you’re afraid he might hurt (link-goto: "himself.", "coffee")

“We’ll keep our eyes peeled.” You smile. Grandpa Jones grins, a hint of mischief in his smile. “You’re a good one, $name. Look out for each other today, you two.” “We always do,” $ezra (link-goto: "answers.", "coffee")

(set: $collectivism to it +1)It is, of course, over three. Along with Grandpa Jones' original request: The Handleman sisters ask for you to keep an eye out for scrap parts, Leighanne from electric asks for copper piping, Henry Kane asks for additional soap, and two young children beg for any sweets you find lying around. You only seriously consider the last request. $ezra has planned for these delays, though, and you end up at the meeting point about the time you’d promised Oliver. You are outside community bounds, now, and can see the enormous stretch of dusty, orange plains laid out in front of you. Your skin is already sticking with sweat from the heat. The land is flat for miles and miles. It’s deceptive and sometimes frustrating. You can walk for hours and feel you’ve barely moved from where you started. Lead Scout Oliver Shen is, predictably, early for the meeting time that he himself set. He’s bent down by the fourth member of your scouting team: The rickety, four-wheeled rover you and $ezra call Ol’ Unreliable. (link: "Greet Oliver cheerfully. It’s never too early to start annoying him.")[(set: $playful to it +1)(goto: "cheerful greeting")] (link: "Say nothing. Wait for instructions.")[(set: $serious to it +1)(goto: "say nothing")]

Though $ezra and you are widely considered accomplished scouts, your dynamic with Oliver has never really moved past local curmudgeon babysits kindergarteners. $ezra and you ‘make a mockery of these missions’ and ‘will surely get us all killed someday.’ Still, Oliver could have requested a new team ages ago, and he never has. “Preferences for tasks this morning?” Oliver asks. That’s nice. He usually assigns you. [[Help Oliver with the engine.]] (link-goto: "Help $ezra transport water from the well.", "well")

(set: $choice1 to "oliver")“I’ll help you with the rover,” you say. Is that surprise on Oliver’s face? Maybe just the start of a sneeze. $ezra pulls the large water jug out of the back of the rover and starts off towards the well. Oliver beckons you over to the rover engine with a nod. “I thought it was just overheated. But I’ve given it plenty of time to cool off and it’s still not starting up right,” he reports, pulling the collar of his shirt up over his mouth and nose before ducking under the hood. You steal a half second glance at his torso, taut and lean. You quickly [[refocus.]]

(set: $choice1 to "ezra")“Help me lift the jug out of the back of the rover?” you ask $ezra. $He nods. “We’ll grab water and be back soon to help with the engine. Does that work?” you ask Oliver. “Yes,” he replies. “Make sure you fill them completely. We’ll be out for the entire day and —“ “Oliver.” You stare at him blankly. “Yes, alright, sorry. You know how to fill up water jugs.” He’s surprisingly self-aware [[today.]]

“Not sure how much help I’ll be,” you admit, moving to stare into the engine like you have any idea at all what you’re supposed to be looking for. “Just hop in the driver's seat and start the rover when I say,” he instructs, reaching down by the wheel to grab some sort of liquid. He pours the liquid into the engine, slowly. “I still think we should replace this bad girl. Spend some resources where they count,” you say. Oliver does not deign to even give you a look. “I know you don’t like taking any resources for us. But we’ll be able to do our job better – to serve others better – if we’re not scraping the bottom of the barrel with our scouting tools,” you continue. “We could stand to help ourselves a [[bit."]]

Everyone has one here: an old life. A former existence, most everyone from it dead or missing. The memories are softer now than when you were young. They used to come like violence, sweeping through you and immobilizing you. One reminder of your mother or sister would catapult you into sorrow for days. You’re older now and it happens less often, but occasionally memories still sweep through you and knock you off your feet. Sometimes you will see your peers in your neighborhood pause, look into the distance, and freeze their bodies up like statues. You think that’s what you look like when you remember something old, too. The younger children in the community are free of these memories. Their lives are difficult in different ways. You aren’t sure whether you envy them or not. You continue to coo at the rover like your mother used to coo at the family [[car.]]

“Please, baby, please. We need you,” you plead. You rub the steering wheel a few more times and turn the key again. The rover spurts to life. You throw your arms above your head in celebration. “Ol’ Unreliable comes through!” you cheer. “Keep it running,” Oliver directs and ducks back under the front hood. You hop down from the seat and jog to stand next to him. “Looks good,” he says, examining what looks like the battery, if you had to take a guess. (link: "Wink. “Where's my reward?”")[(set: $playful to it +1)(goto: "reward")] (link: "“I'll take that promotion now.”")[(set: $playful to it +1) (goto: "promotion")] (link: "“Thanks.”")[(set: $serious to it +1)(goto: "thanks")]

This story features explicit sex if you so choose. Note that further in the story there will be explicit and non-explicit sexual options to choose from as well. (link: "YES to mentions of physical sex")[(set: $sex to "yes")(goto: "name confirm")] (link: "NO to mentions of physical sex")[(set: $sex to "no")(goto: "name confirm")]

<big>Chapter I: [[First Scout of the Hot Season]]</big>(set: $start to 1)

“Thank you,” you murmur and release a small yawn. You stare past $ezra’s head into the mirror hung on the wall behind $him. You could look better. Your eyes are still not completely open, weighed down by sleep. You can barely see your irises, normally reflecting a bright (cycling-link: bind $eyecolor, "blue", "brown", "green", "hazel", "grey", "amber"). Your (cycling-link: bind $hairlength, "long", "short", "shoulder-length", "shaved") (cycling-link: bind $haircolor, "blond", "brown", "black", "red", "auburn", "grey", "white") hair looks awful. Your skin, normally a pleasing (cycling-link: bind $skincolor, "dark brown", "sepia", "olive", "beige", "ivory") tone, looks a bit dull. How come $ezra gets to roll out of bed looking like [[that?]]

“You know,” you say casually, starting to inch a tiny bit ahead of $ezra. “I’m thinking of racking up some brownie points with Oliver by getting there just a few seconds before you.” $ezra grins, an eyebrow arched. “Oh, are you?” $he asks, handing you $his mug as $he bends to tie $his boot laces tighter. You realize your mistake too late. $ezra takes off. “Enjoy your coffee!” $he calls behind you. You laugh, cursing loudly at $him as you try to maintain a swift jog with two coffee mugs in your hands. Eventually $he stops, either from laughing too hard or because $he is taking pity on you. You both have to catch your breath, laughing and wheezing, already covered in (link-goto: "dust.", "morning")

“Morning, $ezra! Morning, $name!” Grandpa Jones is waving you both down and approaching rather quickly for an older man. Everyone calls him Grandpa Jones, though no one here is his grandchild. Or child, for that matter. He came here alone just a few years ago, crossed the orange plains himself like so many others. Like you and $ezra. Quite a feat for someone of his age. “Good morning, Grandpa Jones,” $ezra says and smiles brightly. Grandpa Jones grins back. $ezra is painfully charming. $He knows everyone by name, knows in what sector they do most of their work, asks about new babies and birthdays and side projects. It helps that $he is, objectively, gorgeous. Dark skin, attentive eyes, body tall but visibly strong from scouting. You frequently wonder, sometimes out loud to $ezra, why $he hasn’t been romantically involved with someone – anyone – in some time. $He was seeing a woman a few years ago who tended to the gardens. What was her name? You liked her. $ezra seemed to like her, too. Then, $he just wasn’t seeing her anymore. $He didn’t seem particularly upset. Diana. That was her name. She was [[sweet.]]

“Let me take those for ya. I’ll wash them and put them outside your door later.” He doesn’t wait for your reply, snatching your nearly empty coffee mug from your hand. $ezra’s too. Grandpa Jones shuffles back to his home, mugs in hand, a cursory wave sent your way. $ezra tugs gently on your arm and you continue your walk, a little more briskly this time. “Over or under. Three personal requests this morning,” $ezra challenges. [[Over. You like that people turn to you for help. Scouting can be exhausting. It’s nice to feel needed.]] [[Under. You hope, anyway. Managing everyone’s needs and expectations is not your priority.]]

“Morning, Ollie!” you greet, already beginning the teasing for the day. He abhors the nickname. He probably wishes his parents just named him [[Lead Scout.]]

“Good morning, Scout Taylor. Scout $lastname.” Oliver replies tersely. He rises from his crouched position. Oliver Shen looks dangerous. He is physically large, for one thing, but he’d be imposing even without the height and built-up muscles. His jet black hair is tied up today, revealing intense eyes and a jaw that looks permanently clenched. A tattoo sleeve peeks out below his long shirt. Oliver Shen looks like he could beat the shit out of you, and he probably could. “There are two tasks to finish before departing. The engine isn’t turning over this morning. It needs a look. But to start on time, we need to get to the well on foot to fill the water stores up.” “Aye, aye, captain!" $ezra salutes. You chuckle. Oliver [[sighs.]]

“Good morning, Oliver,” $ezra greets. You don't say anything. It won't matter. Oliver will start briefing you immediately, (link-goto: "anyway.", "Lead Scout.")

You’ve had some version of this conversation a thousand times. It may not be about this exactly, but it’s always about something. You recommend a riskier scouting location; Oliver wants to be cautious. Oliver wants to up the frequency of the missions; You think your time is more effectively spent on one longer scout. Your suggestion to reach out to the People Across the Orange Plains was a non-starter. “I wasn’t aware you were making the decisions, now. I thought that was the Lead Scout’s responsibility,” Oliver replies. “Are you offering me the job?” you quip. Oliver laughs. Not snickers, but full out laughs. You feel warm. You shove down a panicked thought: How can I make him laugh again? You want it to be soon. “I have no doubt you’ll find yourself in a leadership position eventually,” he says. It sounds like a platitude, but his voice has a warmth to [[it.]]

You jump into the driver’s seat. You rarely drive the rover, but you’ve done it enough that you can handle turning the thing on. You hope. “Okay. Now!” he says. You turn the small, metal key in the ignition. It seems delicate for this large machine, like it could snap off if you turn it too hard. You make a note to yourself not to turn it too hard. The rover sputters, and sputters, and then makes a noise like scraping metal. You’re not an expert, but you’re doubtful that’s a good sign. Oliver sighs and returns to under the hood. You wait in silence until his next instruction. “Try again,” he mutters from under the hood. You turn the small key again and the sputtering again. Another groan from Oliver. “Come on, baby,” you coo, rubbing the steering wheel. Oliver looks at you like you’re nuts. Your mom used to do this, in your previous [[life.]]

“$lastname, please,” he mutters, glancing at you. “I’m trying to focus.” Part of you desperately wants to crawl into a hole. Are you flirting with Oliver? Do you actually think this is a good idea? Another part of you wants to keep going. Wants to keep prodding the bear. Wants to ask him what he thinks about you, if he thinks about you. $ezra is going to laugh $his ass off when you tell $him about this. Speak of the devil, $ezra is back with the water stores. You and Oliver assist $him in loading the jug back into the [[rover.]]

Oliver nods. You can’t help but beam a little bit. It does feel nice to be seen as at least somewhat competent by him. $ezra would be proud. Speak of the devil, $ezra is back with the water stores. You and Oliver assist $him in loading the jug back into the [[rover.]]

You think you actually see Oliver smile a bit. You can’t wait to tell $ezra you actually managed to make Oliver smile. $He might not believe you. Speak of the devil, $ezra is back with the water stores. You and Oliver assist $him in loading the jug back into the [[rover.]]

$ezra hops into the back of the vehicle and you take the passenger seat. Oliver always drives. You would protest, but your skills are better suited to being a passenger. Your position in the community is... (link-goto: "Navigator", "Navigator") (link-goto: "Historian", "Historian") (link-goto: "Scientist", "Scientist") (link-goto: "Healer", "Healer")

(set: $position to "Navigator")You lead the scouting team to and from the mission, marking any significant changes in the route or landscape across the way. You have possession of the relevant Community maps, updating them as needed. You have always had an impressive natural sense of direction. The Community maps are difficult to read, to say the least. They do their best to document a changing landscape, but mostly fail. You take pride that, for the most part, other scouting teams like working off the maps that you’ve had in your hands for some time. You think the maps are sad and also the most interesting documents you’ve ever read. They catalog the struggle against this landscape you’ve all found yourself in and a desperate, human need to understand the place that is your home. They represent over a decade of work. You’d probably take a bullet before losing or damaging one of (link-goto: "them.", "skillset")

(set: $position to "Historian")You are responsible for recording the history and culture of your community – exploration, governance, relationships, scouting methods, agriculture, trading, and all other relevant phenomena. You’ve been touting the benefits of keeping historical notes since you were a teenager. How else would the community learn and grow? Eventually, the Council let you adopt a more official position and you began to organize your previous notes into a well-kept record. You regularly conduct interviews, record resource stores, notetake at Council meetings, and lead community gatherings. The Council began to send you on scouting missions a few years ago, and they’ve found those records highly useful. You enjoy the paradox of being, perhaps, the individual most tapped into the Community and also the most separate, as an attempted outside observer. You try to make your record as objective as possible and analyze the Community through an anthropologist’s lens. It’s fascinating, really. A group of people with a deep, shared trauma trying to come together in a landscape that wants them dead. Your objective notes dub the Community members ‘highly adaptable, strong relationship builders, trust in governance, collectivist.’ Letting yourself be subjective: you are overwhelmingly (link-goto: "proud.", "skillset")

(set: $position to "Scientist")Your main goal during these missions is to bring relevant information back to study. You wouldn’t quite call what you’re doing “science” – you have no official training – but everyone calls you the Scientist. During one of your first scouting missions, you noticed the soil beneath your feet looked different. It looked denser, darker, almost as if wet. You brought it back to your home, prodded it and studied it, and finally decided to plant something in it. The seeds you planted grew strong and stable, unlike those in the Community garden which were dying in dry dirt. Since then, the Community sends you on frequent scouting missions. You are never sure what you’ll find or what you’re even looking for. You try to bring back anything useful or different or strange. While Oliver drives, you flip through your notes on the recent erratic movement of dust dunes. Maybe a strange weather pattern? You’re not sure (link-goto: "yet.", "skillset")

(set: $position to "Healer")You are tasked with keeping your scouting team members healthy, in all ways. You do first aid on missions, patching up scrapes, wounds, and once a broken wrist. You also follow up on injuries, illnesses, and provide medical counsel off of scouting missions. Everything you do, every new healing plant that you discover, every treatment that works, every treatment that fails – you record. It is not easy to heal in this environment. You have very few modern resources at your disposal. Your records of treatment and first aid stash are irreplaceable. You are not the only healer in the Community. You originally studied under Dr. James Hauser, a pediatrician in his former life. He taught you everything you know about medicine. He adapted to the struggles of being a health practitioner in this new world and leaving most, but not all, of his specialized pediatrics training behind. You still work with James occasionally, but you are mostly focused on your scouting team now. Dr. Hauser isn’t getting any younger, though, and you’ve been primed to take over for him when the inevitable does (link-goto: "come.", "skillset")

You and $ezra lift the water jug together out of the trunk. It’s not too heavy, but it would’ve been a pain in the ass to carry alone. You start across the dirt, seeing the well in the distance. It’s always farther away than it looks. You both do an awkward kind of side carry until your fingers start to lose grip on the bottom of the jug. “Rest for a second?” you request. $ezra complies, slowly lowering the jug. “What are you hoping for today?” you ask $him, stretching your arms above your head and flexing already sore [[fingers.]]

“Honestly, I think Leighanne is right about the copper piping. Our supply seems a little low for comfort,” $ezra replies, copying your movement. “And we haven’t brought back anything helpful for Electric in a while.” You grin and bring your hands in front of your face to do the miming in a mirror thing. $ezra copies your movement, left hand circling and then right. You lift your right leg up in a 90 degree angle, and $he lifts $his left leg to match. (link: "Take out $his standing leg.")[(set: $mind to it +1)(goto: "standing leg")] (link-goto: "Do a handstand.", "handstand") (link: "Start moving again. You want to finish up this little errand.")[(set: $body to it +1)(set: $playful to it +1)(goto: "errand")]

You move quickly, sweeping $his right leg out from under $him. $ezra goes down, catching $himself with $his hands at the last moment. “Hey!” $he laughs, lowering $himself to the ground and turning over so $he is laying on $his back. $He has dust all over $his clothes and skin already, painting $him siena. As sick as you are of this orange wasteland, you have to admit that it looks good on $ezra. “You play dirty,” $he reprimands with a grin. You plop down beside $him, criss-crossing your legs underneath you. “You like it.” (link: "“I do.”")[(goto: "interim.")]

You squat down to lift the jug again, fingers aching, thighs burning. You can see the well in the distance, but it doesn’t seem to be getting closer anytime fast. You could see how the dust plains could drive anyone insane. The flatness is terrifying. Everything is in sight and nothing is reachable. You do reach it, eventually, and fill the jug up to the brim. The water is clean, but it still has that stagnant smell that groundwater often has. You begin the more difficult trek back, the water jug heavier and slippery in your hands. It’s a tough task, but scouting has made you strong over the years. Your hands and feet have calluses on top of calluses. Your legs and core are stable, your arms are taut. On darker days, you are grateful that even if your will is weak your body remains [[strong.]]

You and $ezra slowly lower the water jug down – better to conserve your energy – and wait for the approaching vehicle. It kicks up dust, careening towards you at its top speed. Its top speed is not terribly fast. Eventually, the rover stops in front of you. Oliver gets out to help you both lift the jug back into the trunk, and then gets back into the driver’s (link-goto: "seat.", "rover.")

You smirk and kick up into a handstand, holding it for a few seconds. $ezra tries to mirror you, but falls almost instantly onto $his back. The direction of $his fall takes you down with $him. You squeal as $he comes down on top of you. “Are you okay?” $ezra asks. You laugh and $he relaxes. “This is your fault, you know I can’t do a handstand,” $he accuses, chuckling. $He moves $his weight off you, straddling you for a half second in the [[interim.]]

There it is again. That momentary lapse when your teasing turns into...something else. It’s been happening more often lately, and you’ve been letting it. Giving in and then leaning off, as if afraid to frighten a skittish animal. You’re not sure who the animal is: $ezra or you. You’re pretty sure everyone thinks that you and $ezra are fucking. They say as much in whispers, side comments, and – occasionally – to your face. You’ve been inseparable since you found each other. Teenage $name didn’t dare to approach that line. You needed $ezra to survive on a daily basis. Taking a risk would have been shooting yourself in the foot. Sometimes you think about losing $ezra and your throat starts to close up, your vision tunnels, and your chest tightens. $His friendship has changed the way you view this completely obliterated world and the parts of your life it took [[with it.]]

You think of your mom and your sister, faded in the clouds of your regrettably human memory, and no longer feel guilty that you cannot remember what their voices sounded like. You have accepted that that $name has been lost to the great tragedy that has marooned everyone else. That is $ezra’s influence, fully, and you will never be able to pay $him back for that peace. So if you still need $ezra to survive, which you do, what’s changed? Why are you really considering this? Is it just time passing – who $he is, everything that $he is, has eroded your defenses beyond repair? Is it because you look at $ezra and $he looks back at you and sometimes $he looks desperately [[hungry?]]

You sit in silence for a few more moments, stretching slowly. You crack your fingers and $ezra leans forward over $his legs to stretch $his back. You both begin to rise at the same time, movements in tandem, per (link-goto: "usual.", "errand")

Though your skillset is primarily one of an academic, Oliver has ensured that your physical skills are up to snuff as well. Your hand-to-hand combat is passable, probably comparable to $ezra’s. You’ve grown quite skilled with your (cycling-link: bind $weapon, "bow", "knife", "spear", "ax") through intense training that was, at first, Oliver mandated. Now, you pursue and lead your own training. You want to feel like a helpful member of the scouting team, not just an academic along for the ride. Neither Oliver nor $ezra has ever treated you like a liability, and you would like to keep it that [[way.]]

“How is your ankle?” $ezra asks. “Hm?” “Your ankle. Is it doing better?” $he repeats. “Oh, right. No better or worse than when you asked me yesterday,” you tease. $He chuckles. This is $ezra. Attentive to a fault. (if: $position is "Navigator" or "Scientist" or "Historian")[“I told you to get that checked out when it happened,” Oliver mutters.](if: $position is "Healer")[“Should’ve listened to Dr. Hauser and rested for longer,” Oliver mutters.] [[Typical.]]

You had injured your ankle a few months ago on a different scouting mission, during the cold season. You, $ezra, and Oliver had found a warehouse completely scavenged, save for what appeared to be some metal piping attached to the upper walls of the warehouse. Whoever had cleared it out either hadn’t noticed or couldn’t get up there. $ezra and Oliver both advised against it, meaning, of course, you had to try. After retrieving most of the piping and tossing it down to your team members, you came down a bit too hard on your ankle. No big deal. You had a bit of a limp for a while, but it’s mostly healed by now. (link: "It was unusual for you to take that sort of risk.")[(set: $norisk to it +1)(goto: "It was unusual for you to take that sort of risk.")] (link: "This was pretty standard behavior for you.")[(set: $risk to it +1)(goto: "This was pretty standard behavior for you.")]

You’re always sporting some new type of injury from some slightly-too-risky endeavor. It drove Oliver up a wall. $ezra frequently said you gave $him stomach ulcers from worrying. You ride in silence for some time. You feel calm, watching the sun rise over the plains, the light bathing everything. Though peaceful, there is a certain anxiety in the nothingness out here. It reminds you how desolate it truly is, how alone you all are. The rover kicks up enough dust that you all cough for most of the day after a scouting mission. Bathed in orange, dust in your lungs, and muscles aching, you’ll return home just before it becomes completely dark. (if: $individualism > $collectivism)[You will try to avoid hounding by Community members for whatever it is you can find on the mission today.](else:)[You will be welcomed back enthusiastically and share your exploits with all.] You will maintain a purpose that fights off your daily, pulsing [[grief.]]

Oliver parks the rover walking distance away from the scouting area. It is, you know, his least favorite part of scouting. To leave your only mode of transportation in plain sight. You’re inclined to agree. There is, however, no other option. The flat land hides nothing. The scouting area appears to have once been a small town, leveled completely and partly buried. Maybe, actually, it was a large town and this is all that remains. All that are left of the buildings are the stone foundations. They look out of place, starkly and perfectly square in the randomness of the plains. You walk through the wreckage cautiously, following Oliver’s lead. (if: $position is "Navigator")[This place is not featured on any map you’ve come across thus far. You unfurl your map of this region and find nothing significant recorded. It appears you are the first from your community to explore this area.](if: $position is "Historian")[You try to determine how old this town must be and when it was destroyed. The foundations look fairly modern, gray concrete as opposed to an older brick or wood. The buildings appear too far apart to have been a major city with high density, but this specific area seemed to have been well-populated. The foundations aren’t large enough to be industrial. They could be smaller houses or shops.](if: $position is "Scientist")[You keep your eyes out for anything unusual. The weather patterns today appear normal, and there’s nothing out of place about the color or shade of the dust here. There is no obvious evidence of groundwater.](if: $position is "Healer")[You keep your eyes peeled for any vegetation, wildlife, or cloth material. Anything that could be useful in healing. Living vegetation is nearly impossible to find. Little grows in the dust without water. Occasionally cacti will bloom, all alone, struggling. You’re not sure why you’re here to scout. This place looks completely decimated. The scouting team who had noticed it on the way back from one of their missions can’t have thought this was worth it. Why would they put this place on the list?] “Tough to see anything worthwhile here,” $ezra says, $his mind on the same track as [[yours.]]

“Unless you think anyone would be interested in a bunch of rubble,” you mutter. “What’s the deal with this place, Oliver?” You know he sometimes holds back on mission information until you’re in the thick of it. “There’s supposed to be something underground. They thought it was some sort of basement or tunnel,” Oliver informs you. [[Be annoyed.]] (link: "Be doubtful.")[(set: $norisk to it +1)(goto: "Be doubtful.")] (link: "Be curious.")[(set: $mind to it +1)(goto: "Be curious.")]

“You didn’t think that information might’ve been useful to us, I don’t know, earlier?” you snap. “No,” Oliver deadpans. You continue in search of some underground boon, looking for an entrance or an indication that it was buried in rubble. You see nothing, and you feel a little stupid. You could tell from the minute you got here it’s just [[flat.]]

“I don’t know about that. I don’t see anything that would point to anything underground.” Oliver “hmph”s. You continue in search of some underground boon, looking for an entrance or an indication that it was buried in rubble. You see nothing, and you feel a little stupid. You could tell from the minute you got here it’s just [[flat.]]

“Why would they think that?” you wonder aloud. “I don’t see anything that would point to anything underground.” Oliver “hmph”s. You continue in search of some underground boon, looking for an entrance or an indication that it was buried in rubble. You see nothing, and you feel a little stupid. You could tell from the minute you got here it’s just [[flat.]]

“I don’t want to be the first one to say it but...” you hear $ezra begin tentatively. “We got bad information?” you finish for $him. Oliver says nothing, still focused, hunting for some sort of explanation in the dust. While you and $ezra have relaxed your stances, Oliver is still proceeding cautiously and carefully. He takes slow steps, purveying the area, eyes scanning. [[Appeal to Oliver.]] (link-goto: "Commiserate with $ezra.", "Commiserate with Ezra.") [[Try to find something. Anything.]]

You put your hand on Oliver’s shoulder, forcing him out of his focused advance. “Oliver, I don’t think there’s anything here,” you say, a sympathetic lilt to your words. You know how hard Oliver is on himself when the scouts don’t go to plan. Also, how hard he’ll be on you and $ezra. You’re not exactly looking forward to an “improved” training regime and a lecture on screening a site effectively. Oliver looks at your face, and then the hand on his shoulder, like he’s never seen you before in his life. It takes a quick head shake and a couple seconds before his head is completely out of scanning the area. He is, by far, the most singularly focused person you have ever [[met.]]

You look at $ezra and resist the urge to roll your eyes. $He holds back a smile, knowing exactly what you’re thinking. “Grandpa Jones is not going to be happy with us,” you say, jumping up on one of the nearly buried foundation walls. You hold your arms out wide, balancing on the narrow structure. $ezra walks beside you on solid ground. “You’ll sweet talk your way out of it, I’m sure,” $ezra teases. “I do not sweet talk.” “Oh, you totally do,” $he says, laughing at your incredulousness. “$ezra Taylor, you are a dirty liar. I have never once in my [[life–”]]

You scan the area once again, looking for anything you might have missed. You come up empty, nothing of interest, nothing of value. Oliver and $ezra look equally unsuccessful. “Maybe we should move on to a different scouting area,” you (link-goto: "suggest.", "eyes.")

Oliver is about three years older than you, give or take. He came to the Community as a young man, already tattooed, already deeply serious, with a laser-like focus. He survived out there, on his own, for an unbelievable amount of time. It’s embarrassing to you now, but you always looked up to Oliver and you wanted him to like you. Now, knowing him, Oliver liking you is somewhat of an unreasonable goal. You think he respects you, though. “Do you want to do a final sweep and then call it a day?” you ask, moving your arm from his shoulder. You don’t remember touching him before, ever. “Yes,” he sighs finally. “Let’s do that.” He doesn’t meet your [[eyes.]]

(track: 'strum', 'stop')(track: 'cowboy', 'play')It all happens very fast after that. Something whizzes by your shoulder. It takes a moment before you realize it is some sort of weapon, an ax maybe. Or a large knife. $ezra is in a defensive crouch position, a knife in $his right hand. Oliver has his hands up in front of his chest in a gesture of peace, but you know he has a knife strapped to his ankle. (if: $weapon is "bow")[You’ve already grabbed your bow from your back, ready to load an arrow.](if: $weapon is "knife" or "spear" or "ax")[You’ve already grabbed your $weapon and grip it tightly.] Two men and one woman stand in front of you, clothed in black from head to toe. Some of them have cloth over their mouths, so you can only see their eyes. They look aggressive. There are an array of weapons in hand, mostly axes and knives. The woman has a (if: $weapon is "knife" or "spear" or "ax")[(link-goto:"bow.", "gage")](if: $weapon is "bow")[(link-goto:"bow, like you.", "gage")]

“$ezra, could you help me weed the garden? You’re so much better at it than I am.” $He pitches $his voice up, pouts, and bats $his eyelashes. You try to look offended, but you think your smile is betraying you. “$ezra, Alanna won’t stop bothering me about the scout. Could you be your wonderful, charming self and get her off my back? $ezra–” “Okay, I sweet talk you, that’s different.” “How is that different?” “You let me, you love it!” you accuse. You wobble slightly on your feet. $ezra offers $his hand to steady yourself and you take it. “Admit it,” you say, jumping down from the foundation. “You love being my knight in shining armor.” “That was never up for debate,” $he replies, letting your hand (link-goto: "drop.", "eyes.")

“Hey, whoa, let’s calm down everyone,” the tallest of the group, a man with what appears to be some sort of short scythe in his hand, pulls down his face covering. He is smirking, relaxed, less stiff than the rest of you. You notice his green eyes first, almost yellow. Long dark brown hair touches his chin, framing the stubble on his face. It is a bad time, you know, to recognize that he is deeply good looking. (link: "Be defensive.")[(set: $serious to it +1)(goto: "Be defensive.")] (link: "Laugh.")[(set: $playful to it +1)(goto: "Laugh.")]

“Calm down enough to get hit by the next projectile you throw at us?” you question, snarling. “Pass.” (if: $weapon is "bow")[The man looks at you, smirking even as you load an arrow into your bow. It is still pointed downward — you don’t want to escalate just yet — but you hope he gets the message. You won’t hesitate to bury an arrow in this guy if he gets close to $ezra or Oliver.](if: $weapon is "knife" or "ax" or "spear")[The man looks at you, smirking even as you point your weapon at him. You won’t hesitate to bury your $weapon in this guy if he gets close to $ezra or Oliver.] “A cautionary measure,” he explains, shrugging. “A cautionary measure that almost took $hers head off,” Oliver growls. The leader takes a step forward, hands raised in a mirror of Oliver’s position. $ezra moves out of $his crouch to step in front of you and Oliver. (link-goto: "Caution $him.", "caution") (link-goto: "Flank $him.", "flank")

“What makes you think we aren’t calm?” You laugh, tinged rageful. (if: $weapon is "bow")[The man looks at you, smirking even as you load an arrow into your bow. It is still pointed downward — you don’t want to escalate just yet — but you hope he gets the message. You won’t hesitate to bury an arrow in this guy if he gets close to $ezra or Oliver.](if: $weapon is "knife" or "ax" or "spear")[The man looks at you, smirking even as you point your weapon at him. You won’t hesitate to bury your $weapon in this guy if he gets close to $ezra or Oliver.] “A cautionary measure,” he explains, shrugging. “A cautionary measure that almost took $hers head off,” Oliver growls. The leader takes a step forward, hands raised in a mirror of Oliver’s position. $ezra moves out of $his crouch to step in front of you and Oliver. (link-goto: "Caution $him.", "caution") (link-goto: "Flank $him.", "flank")

(set: $individualism to it +1)It is, of course, over three. Along with Grandpa Jones' original request: The Handleman sisters ask for you to keep an eye out for spare parts, Leighanne from electric asks for copper piping, Henry Kane asks for additional soap, and two young children beg for any sweets you find lying around. You only seriously consider the last request. $ezra has planned for these delays, though, and you end up at the meeting point about the time you’d promised Oliver. You are outside community bounds, now, and can see the enormous stretch of dusty, orange plains laid out in front of you. Your skin is already sticking with sweat from the heat. The land is flat for miles and miles. It’s deceptive and sometimes frustrating. You can walk for hours and feel you’ve barely moved from where you started. Lead Scout Oliver Shen is, predicatably, early for the meeting time that he himself set. He’s bent down by the fourth member of your scouting team: The rickety, four-wheeled rover you and $ezra call Ol’ Unreliable. (link: "Greet Oliver cheerfully. It’s never too early to start annoying him.")[(set: $playful to it +1)(goto: "cheerful greeting")] (link: "Say nothing. Wait for instructions.")[(set: $serious to it +1)(goto: "say nothing")]

You are typically pretty risk-averse, especially to any kind of physical danger. You can certainly handle yourself in combat, but you like to avoid unnecessary injury. You ride in silence for some time. You feel calm, watching the sun rise over the plains, the light bathing everything. Though peaceful, there is a certain anxiety in the nothingness out here. It reminds you how desolate it truly is, how alone you all are. The rover kicks up enough dust that you all cough for most of the day after a scouting mission. Bathed in orange, dust in your lungs, and muscles aching, you’ll return home just before it becomes completely dark. (if: $individualism > $collectivism)[You will try to avoid hounding by Community members for whatever it is you can find on the mission today.](else:)[You will be welcomed back enthusiastically and share your exploits with all.] You will maintain a purpose that fights off your daily, pulsing [[grief.]]

“$ezra, please,” you beg. You don’t care if your weakness shines though. $He can’t get hurt. “It’s alright, $name,” $ezra replies calmly, not talking $his eyes off the leader. “$name,” the man murmurs, as if trying it on for size. “You’re the famous Community $position. We’ve all heard of you. Incredible (if: $position is "Navigator")[work on those maps](if: $position is "Historian")[historical record-keeping](if: $position is "Scientist")[theories on the dune weather patterns](if: $position is "Healer")[medical notes], by the way.” (link-goto: "What?", "what") (link-goto: "Wait, what?", "what") (link-goto: "WHAT?", "what")

You move with Oliver, stepping closely behind $ezra, $weapon tight in hand. “I’ve got this, $name,” $ezra assures, not talking $his eyes off the leader. “$name,” the man murmurs, as if trying it on for size. “You’re the famous Community $position. We’ve all heard of you. Incredible (if: $position is "Navigator")[work on those maps](if: $position is "Historian")[historical record-keeping](if: $position is "Scientist")[theories on the dune weather patterns](if: $position is "Healer")[medical notes], by the way.” (link-goto: "What?", "what") (link-goto: "Wait, what?", "what") (link-goto: "WHAT?", "what")

$ezra and Oliver seem as stunned as you are. “Don’t look so surprised, gorgeous,” the leader chuckles. “You have a superb reputation.” “Gage.” It’s the woman with the bow. Her voice is harsh. A long black braid falls down her back, stray hairs framing her olive-skinned face. “You want to flirt with the $position or you want to move aside to give me a clear shot at $her?” You all tense. Oliver removes the knife that was strapped to his ankle. (if: $weapon is "bow")[You quickly load an arrow and angle your bow towards the group in black.] (if: $weapon is "knife" or "spear" or "ax")[You move into a throwing position.] “Leah, please.” The leader, Gage, is exasperated. “There’s no need for that. I’m sure we can all come to a peaceful resolution here.” He is talking slowly, as if to [[children.]]

It feels too calculated, though. A bit rehearsed. Like this is an oft-used Good Cop, Bad Cop routine. “We’ll back off. You get in your vehicle and go home. Everyone leaves alive.” Gage is truly, actually smiling. He’s enjoying this. He feels confident he has the upper hand. “Move a step closer, though,” He is swinging his sickle around his hand. “No promises. Leah has taken captives in the past and they generally don’t live very long.” The academic in you is wild, curious. Who are these people? Where did they come from? They seem to know each other well. Their movements are aligned, their stances confident. They appear well-fed, strong, and clean. They have fairly advanced weaponry. The scout in you is cautious. Why are they in all black, an easily spotted contrast in the Orange Plains? Why come out so aggressively? The woman with the bow, Leah, appears agitated but generally yielding to Gage. The other man has not said a word. He is weaponless, likely the one who threw the ax. “Fine,” Oliver says through gritted teeth, already beginning to back away, still clutching his knife tightly. Wait – [[no!]]

“Oliver, wait,” you say, hoping the emotion in your voice betrays your thoughts to him. You can’t let these people get away. You have to know who they are. You have to know if they are a part of a larger group. What if they’re a part of the People Across the Orange Plains? “Scout $lastname, let’s go,” Oliver says sternly. $ezra’s stare is pleading with you. “Yeah, Scout $lastname,” Gage sing-songs. “Listen to your leader.” (link: "Tease Gage back.")[(set: $playful to it +1)(goto: "Tease Gage back.")] (link: "Let him irritate you.")[(set: $serious to it +1)(goto: "Let him irrirate you.")]

“You can call me $name, we’re all friends here.” Gage laughs, but doesn’t take his eyes off you. “Okay, alright,” you say slowly. Oliver relaxes, thinking you’ve given in. $ezra knows better. You carefully drop your $weapon. The group in black watches your every move. Even more slowly, you pull your (if: $position is "Navigator")[map](if: $position is "Historian")[historical record book](if: $position is "Scientist")[scientific notebook](if: $position is "Healer")[medical notes] out. (if: $serious > $playful)[“I have something you might want. These records could help you live out here, live better.” “$name,” $ezra says, pleadingly. “Scout $lastname, back away,” Oliver instructs.](else:)[“I guess you won’t be wanting these records, then? All my well-recorded notes are of no interest to you?” You barely contain a grin. “Oh my God, $name,” says $ezra. “You idiot,” from Oliver. “Leah, no interest in a captive with some crucial information?” You’re smiling now. Leah is not amused.] Gage, however, looks positively [[delighted.]]

You twitch with annoyance. “Okay, alright,” you say slowly. Oliver relaxes, thinking you’ve given in. $ezra knows better. You carefully drop your $weapon. The group in black watches your every move. Even more slowly, you pull your (if: $position is "Navigator")[map](if: $position is "Historian")[historical record book](if: $position is "Scientist")[scientific notebook](if: $position is "Healer")[medical notes] out. (if: $serious > $playful)[“I have something you might want. These records could help you live out here, live better.” “$name,” $ezra says, pleadingly. “Scout $lastname, back away,” Oliver instructs.](else:)[“I guess you won’t be wanting these records, then? All my well-recorded notes are of no interest to you?” You barely contain a grin. “Oh my God, $name,” says $ezra. “You idiot,” from Oliver. “Leah, no interest in a captive with some crucial information?” You’re smiling now. Leah is not amused.] Gage, however, looks positively [[delighted.]]

“You want to bargain your own life, your own information, for what?” Leah snarls. (if: $she is "they")[“They're an academic. They're trying to research us.” Gage smiles back at you. He appears to be sizing you up. You try not to show how desperate you are, how willing you would be to abandon your own well-being in pursuit of the knowledge that they must have.](else:)[“$She’s an academic. $She’s trying to research us.” Gage smiles back at you. He appears to be sizing you up. You try not to show how desperate you are, how willing you would be to abandon your own well-being in pursuit of the knowledge that they must have.] “$name, please don’t do this,” $ezra pleads. You want to comfort $him, assure $him that you’ll back off, be safe. But you’re in too deep now. Gage, for a moment, looks to be considering your offer. Then, he [[lunges.]]

You toss your (if: $position is "Navigator")[geographical notebook](if: $position is "Historian")[historical record book](if: $position is "Scientist")[scientific notebook](if: $position is "Healer")[medical notebook] behind you before Gage can reach you. (if: $choice1 is "ezra")[$ezra catches it cleanly. You could kiss $him for that.](if: $choice1 is "oliver")[Oliver catches it cleanly. You could kiss him for that.] Now, though, you’ve gotten yourself into a precarious position. Your back is to Gage’s chest, trapped by an arm around your middle, and his sickle is at your throat. “You’ve put me in a difficult position here, $name,” Gage murmurs in your ear. “I don’t want to kill you. But you’ve made it clear that you won’t be a cooperative captive.” He does, to his credit, sound a bit sad about it. “I really do like your work, $name,” he says, beginning to pull his arm back. (link: "Twist out of his hold.")[(set: $body to it +1)(goto: "Twist out of his hold.")] (link: "Grab the sickle.")[(set: $mind to it +1)(goto: "Grab the sickle.")] (link: "Elbow him in the stomach.")[(set: $body to it +1)(goto: "Elbow him in the stomach.")]

You twist in Gage’s hold, swinging around so you’re facing his front. You push. Hard. Gage holds his balance, maintaining his grip on you. As you struggle, Gage's free hand wraps around your mouth. You bite as hard as you can, seeking bone, trying to chew clean through. You taste blood, taste success. “Ah!” Gage cries out, tearing his arm back. You slide out of his hold and to the ground, moving to take his legs out from under him. $ezra is there first. $He tackles Gage to the ground and tries to rip the sickle out of his hand. Oliver is already on Leah, swiping at her with his dagger. It looks like at least some of his swings are connecting. You go for your $weapon on the ground. If you can get the high ground, even a little bit of height and distance, you could pick off all three of them from [[above.]]

You quickly reach up to grab the hilt of the sickle, wrestling for control of it. As you struggle, Gage's free hand wraps around your mouth. You bite as hard as you can, seeking bone, trying to chew clean through. You taste blood, taste success. “Ah!” Gage cries out, tearing his arm back. You slide out of his hold and to the ground, moving to take his legs out from under him. $ezra is there first. $He tackles Gage to the ground and tries to rip the sickle out of his hand. Oliver is already on Leah, swiping at her with his dagger. It looks like at least some of his swings are connecting. You go for your $weapon on the ground. If you can get the high ground, even a little bit of height and distance, you could pick off all three of them from [[above.]]

You wind up your elbow to swing backward, but Gage kicks the back of your knee. Hard. You purposely go limp as you collapse, pulling him down just enough to bite down on his free hand. You bite as hard as you can, seeking bone, trying to chew clean through. You taste blood, taste success. “Ah!” Gage cries out, tearing his arm back. You slide out of his hold and to the ground, moving to take his legs out from under him. $ezra is there first. $He tackles Gage to the ground and tries to rip the sickle out of his hand. Oliver is already on Leah, swiping at her with his dagger. It looks like at least some of his swings are connecting. You go for your $weapon on the ground. If you can get the high ground, even a little bit of height and distance, you could pick off all three of them from [[above.]]

It’s a good plan, but you’re just slightly slow on your left foot. Your ankle isn’t quite healed. Your weakness must be obvious, because the weaponless man targets your leg beautifully. It is swept out from under you and, after you’ve hit the ground, your ankle is pinned by his knee. The pain hits you so fully, so completely, that you don’t hear your ankle snap, but it must make a sound. You’re screaming. You know you have to fight back, have to do something, but the pain is rewiring your brain while you’re trying to decide. The weaponless man has your face pushed into the dust. In some back part of your brain, you recognize that $ezra is yelling at Oliver to get the rover. You can’t get a breath in. You can’t get any breath in. The weight is suddenly off of your ankle and, wow, that’s somehow worse. $ezra has tackled the weaponless man to the ground. You can’t see Oliver. Pain shoots up through your leg and to the base of your spine. Your vision tunnels. Your $weapon. Still have to get to your (link-goto: "$weapon.", "weapon")

You use your elbows to crawl to your bag, dragging your surely fractured ankle behind you as you go. (if: $weapon is "bow")[You reach out, pull your bow towards you and load an arrow, as quickly as you possibly can.] (else:)[You reach out and pull your weapon towards you as quickly as you possibly can.] Pressure on your leg causes you to cry out again. Leah has her boot on your ankle and is grinding it down into the dirt. You scream. You could try to move onto your back and (if: $weapon is "ax" or "spear")[throw your $weapon](if: $weapon is "knife")[stab](if: $weapon is "bow")[shoot] at close range, but it would be a weird angle. (if: $weapon is "ax" or "bow")[There’s a chance it doesn’t get enough power and just bounces off her.] You could try to flip her, but she’s definitely at an advantage right now. (link: "Try to get some leverage, even if it further injures you.")[(set: $risk to it +1)(set: $mind to it +1)(goto: "Try to get some leverage, even if it further injures you.")] (link: "Move onto your back and aim upward.")[(set: $risk to it +1)(goto: "Move onto your back and aim upward.")] (link: "Try to flip Leah.")[(set: $body to it +1)(set: $norisk to it +1)(goto: "Try to flip Leah.")] (link: "Shout for help.")[(set: $body to it +1)(set: $collectivist to it +1)(goto: "Shout for help.")]

You use your good leg to push yourself back, knocking Leah slightly off balance. Your ankle screams. You lift yourself to a kneel and kick back blindly with your good leg, thankfully catching Leah in the abdomen and giving you a split second of opportunity. You’re running before you’ve realized how painful running is. Your ankle betrays you a few strides in, about to buckle, when $ezra wraps $his arm around your side. You lift your ankle immediately, grateful for the relief. “On my back,” $he says. You don’t argue. You can tell $ezra is trying to carry you as carefully as $he possibly can, but this is nearly impossible at the pace $he is sprinting. You bite down on your lower lip, not wanting to give $him any indication of pain. You just want $him to keep [[running.]]

(if: $weapon is "bow")[You flip onto your back, awkwardly pulling your bow string along your side body. You release, letting a weak arrow fly towards Leah.](if: $weapon is "spear" or "knife")[You flip onto your back, stabbing upward from your strange angle.](if: $weapon is "ax")[You flip onto your back and release your ax, letting it fly towards Leah.] It doesn’t look like it does much damage to her, more like an annoyance, but it distracts her long enough for you to kick her abdomen with your good leg. (if: $weapon is "bow")[You pull another arrow out of your bag, grip the shaft, and plunge it into her calf.] (if: $weapon is "spear" or "knife")[You stab again, this time catching her in the calf.](if: $weapon is "ax")[You pick up your ax quickly and chuck it again, this time catching her in the calf.] Leah curses, kicking backwards, but you’ve already taken the opportunity to stand erect on your good leg. You’re running before you’ve realized how painful running is. Your ankle betrays you a few strides in, about to buckle, when $ezra wraps $his arm around your side. You lift your ankle immediately, grateful for the relief. “On my back,” $he says. You don’t argue. You can tell $ezra is trying to carry you as carefully as $he possibly can, but this is nearly impossible at the pace $he is sprinting. You bite down on your lower lip, not wanting to give $him any indication of pain. You just want $him to keep [[running.]]

You use your good leg to hook Leah’s ankle and flip onto your back, sending her down into the dust. She hits the ground hard. You’re running before you’ve realized how painful running is. Your ankle betrays you a few strides in, about to buckle, when $ezra wraps $his arm around your side. You lift your ankle immediately, grateful for the relief. “On my back,” $he says. You don’t argue. You can tell $ezra is trying to carry you as carefully as $he possibly can, but this is nearly impossible at the pace $he is sprinting. You bite down on your lower lip, not wanting to give $him any indication of pain. You just want $him to keep [[running.]]

“$ezra!” you scream, mouth full of dirt. You can’t see where $he is, can’t see what’s happening. You hear a cry from Leah, like she’s been hit, and take off. You’re running before you’ve realized how painful running is. Your ankle betrays you a few strides in, about to buckle, when $ezra wraps $his arm around your side. You lift your ankle immediately, grateful for the relief. “On my back,” $he says. You don’t argue. You can tell $ezra is trying to carry you as carefully as $he possibly can, but this is nearly impossible at the pace $he is sprinting. You bite down on your lower lip, not wanting to give $him any indication of pain. You just want $him to keep [[running.]]

Your face is buried in the back of $ezra’s shirt, so you don’t see the rover coming. But you feel a sigh of relief from $ezra and you notice $him speed up. (if: $risk > $norisk)[You jump off $ezra’s back onto your good leg, using your arms to pull you into the rover before the vehicle has even completely stopped.](else:)[Then, Oliver’s hands are on you and you are being carefully lowered into the backseat of the rover. You move slowly, afraid to do yourself any further damage.] [[Hold onto Oliver.]] (link-goto: "Hold onto $ezra.", "ezra lift")

(set: $choice2 to "oliver")“$ezra, get us out of here,” Oliver orders, lifting himself into the backseat with you. The rover screeches on the dust – that can’t be good for Ol’ Unreliable – and takes off across the plains. From your lying position, you can’t tell where the group in black is. “Are they following us?” you ask Oliver, coughing some dust out of your mouth. Your throat aches. “No,” he replies shortly. That’s a relief, at least. Oliver reaches back in the trunk for the water stores, careful not to jostle you, and fills a water pack. You take it gratefully. While you gulp down water, he lifts both your legs so that they stretch across his lap. You flinch and he moves even slower, even more [[carefully.]]

(set: $choice2 to "ezra")Oliver jumps into the driver’s seat as $ezra positions you carefully in the backseat. The rover screeches on the dust – that can’t be good for Ol’ Unreliable – and takes off across the plains. From your lying position, you can’t tell where the group in black is. “They’re not following us,” $ezra assures you. Your head is in $his lap and $he is gently pushing your hair out of your face, carefully wiping the dust from around your eyes. (if: $position is "Healer")[You know your ankle should probably get wrapped, but you can't do it well yourself right now and you don’t want to set it wrong.] Your ankle gets jostled a bit and you flinch. $ezra places $his hand on your upper thigh to steady your leg’s [[movement.]]

(track: 'cowboy', 'stop')(track: 'strum', 'play')(if: $position is "Healer")[“Open the first aid kit and pull out a bandage. Make sure it’s a sterile one,” you instruct. “Can you wrap it?” “Yes.” He sounds confident.] (else:)[Oliver attends to your wounds with the limited resources in the rover’s first aid kit.] His hands – rough, strong, tattooed – are gentle. His fingers prod your ankle lightly. When you flinch or make any slight indication of pain, he moves on. He wraps a bandage around your ankle, tightening and loosening based only on your non-verbal cues. The gentler he is with you, the guiltier you feel. You put him in danger. You put $ezra in danger. You risked all your lives for a chance to know the People Across the Orange Plains. “Oli–” “I have half a mind to report you, you know,” he snaps. His voice is angry, his jaw clenched, but his hands remain soft on your [[ankle.]]

“I deserve that.” “The Council will ask for a full report when they see you’re injured, anyway,” he mutters. “I’ll tell them the truth,” you promise. “I’d never ask you to lie.” “This will reflect poorly on my leadership.” “I know. Oliver, I’m so sorry.” He looks you in the eyes, finally. You must look remorseful, or else just badly beat up, because his vexed expression [[eases.]]

“You’ve never...You don’t want to know what they might know?” Your voice is pleading. “They’re survivors, like us. They could teach us. They could help us stay alive!” Oliver is quiet for a moment. He finishes wrapping your ankle, your foot still perched in his lap. “Of course I want to know what they know. I want to know who they are and how they got here,” he says after a while. “The difference, $name, is that I wouldn’t put you in danger to do it.” Yikes. He’s right. You’re an [[asshole.]]

It’s a miracle but somehow, through the pain, you drift off to sleep. When you arrive back at the community, it’s still light out. Never a sign of a successful scout. Oliver and $ezra help you out of the rover, one of your arms over each of their shoulders. No one is there to greet you – they weren’t expecting you back so early – but someone must see you limping back because word spreads. Dr. Hauser is alerted and a makeshift stretcher is not far behind him. Oliver is called to report to the Council. (if: $choice2 is "ezra")[“Oliver, wait,” you call out. He doesn’t turn around, but calls back to you. “Rest up, Scout $lastname.” (link-goto: "Fuck.", "tent")](if: $choice2 is "oliver")[$ezra is hesitant to leave your side, but you convince $him $he needs to get $himself cleaned up. “$ezra, wait,” you call to $his retreating back. “I want to say I’m–” “Stop it, $name,” $he interrupts, lifting the back of $his hand towards you, still walking away. $He is smiling, you can tell from $his voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You don’t deserve that (link-goto: "$man.", "tent")]

(track: 'cowboy', 'stop')(track: 'strum', 'play')The more attentive $he is with you, the guiltier you feel. You put $him in danger. You put Oliver in danger. You risked all your lives for a chance to know the People Across the Orange Plains. “You look like hell,” $ezra says, grinning. You laugh even though you feel like crying. “$ezra, I am so sorry. I just saw this chance that I’ll probably never get again in my life. I wanted to know, I had to know. They’re survivors, like us. They could teach us. They could help us stay alive!” You have to stop because you’re coughing up some of the dust in your lungs. $ezra offers you $his full water sack. You [[drink.]]

You ride in silence for a bit. Your throat feels better, but the pain in your ankle is feeling more real. $ezra is continuing to stroke your hair comfortingly. You look up at $him. “Please yell at me,” you request. $He smiles. “I don’t see why I would,” $he says. “You saw an opportunity and took a chance. The Council surely won’t be happy about it.” You grimace. “But I’ve always known you’re going to save us somehow. It’s fascinating to watch you work and piece things together and help us survive. This one didn’t work out.” $He shrugs. “Our team moves onto the next. I’d follow you into hell, $name.” “I said yell at me, not make me cry,” you mutter, closing your eyes. $ezra chuckles. (link: "“Maybe later.”")[(goto: "asshole.")]

(if: $collectivism > $individualism)[You are transported to Dr. Hauser’s medical tent. Dr. Hauser is carrying one end of the stretcher and Joan Klein is carrying the other end. “Thank you Joan,” you say as you are lowered down. She grins at you. “Get better soon, $name,” she coos. “We need you.” You sigh.](else:)[You are transported to Dr. Hauser’s medical tent. Dr. Hauser is carrying one end of the stretcher. A woman you recognize, but can’t place, is carrying the other. “Thank you,” you say to her before she leaves the tent. She smiles.] (if: $position is "Navigator" or "Historian" or "Scientist")[You’ve been in the medical tent before, for minor injuries or sprains, but never for anything as bad as this. Dr. Hauser is a kind man. You like him.](if: $position is "Healer")[You glance around this familiar place, intentionally not making eye contact with Dr. Hauser. He smiles down at you, as kind as ever.] “Hi $name.” “Hey, Doc,” you murmur. He gets to [[work.]]

He examines your foot carefully. It doesn’t hurt any less than earlier, but it seems you’ve grown accustomed to the searing pain. The human body is frighteningly durable. “It appears to be fractured, but it doesn’t look like a compound fracture. I’m not worried about infection, just about it not setting properly. I may have to break and re-set it. This will be a long recovery.” You figured as much. A voice at the entrance to the tent calls Dr. Hauser away from you. There is some mumbling, a sigh from Dr. Hauser, and he re-enters. “$name.” He looks exasperated. “The Council would like to see you. As soon as [[possible.”]]

<big>Chapter II: [[Probation]]</big>

{ (track: 'strum', 'loop', true) (track: 'strum', 'playwhenpossible') }It has been over a decade since a worldwide natural disaster obliterated the natural planet and decimated human civilization. There are small groups of humans still alive, fending for themselves, trying to create communities amongst the rubble. You are a 24-year old scout living in a small community on the edge of the Orange Plains. You lost your mother and your sister before finding your way here. You are primarily an academic, and you put your skills to use on regular scouting missions. With your best friend and your scouting team leader in tow, your small group is a pillar of the Community. On your first scouting mission of the hot season, you meet a leader from the People Across the Orange Plains. Will you break from the Community you have known your whole life? Ask a romantic partner to join you? Discover secrets that your own people have been hiding? Become a leader yourself? Content warnings: Violence, language, sexual content. (link-goto: "START GAME", "No. I want to start over.") (link-goto: "LOAD GAME", "LOAD") (link-goto: "Credits", "CREDITS")

cowboy: https://files.freemusicarchive.org/storage-freemusicarchive-org/music/no_curator/Damscray/Your_Rainbow_Colour_Changer/Damscray_-_05_-_Look_Cowboy_Look.mp3 strum: https://files.freemusicarchive.org/storage-freemusicarchive-org/music/no_curator/Youssoupha_Sidibe/Sacred_Sound/Youssoupha_Sidibe_-_10_-_Xaleyi.mp3 intense: https://files.freemusicarchive.org/storage-freemusicarchive-org/music/no_curator/Damscray/Your_Rainbow_Colour_Changer/Damscray_-_04_-_Rural_Metric_Seven.mp3 party: https://files.freemusicarchive.org/storage-freemusicarchive-org/music/no_curator/Damscray/Your_Rainbow_Colour_Changer/Damscray_-_06_-_Dancing_Tiger.mp3

Editing Thank you immensely to the lovely (link-repeat: "jeneara")[(gotoURL: "https://jeneara.tumblr.com/")] for editing and proofreading – I cannot thank you enough. Images (link-repeat: "Pixabay Royalty Free Images")[(gotoURL: "https://pixabay.com")] Music (link-repeat: "Free Music Archive: Damscray")[(gotoURL: "https://freemusicarchive.org/static")] (link-repeat: "Free Music Archive: Youssoupha Sidibe")[(gotoURL: "https://freemusicarchive.org/static")] (link-goto: "RETURN", "Start")

(track: 'strum', 'stop')(track: 'intense', 'play')You feel very small, though you sit at the head of the table. The Council members watch you closely. The sole sounds in the warehouse are the tapping of fingers and the shuffling of feet. Very little of the original membership has changed since you were young. As a grown $woman, you wait for chastising from the same people who would reprimand you as a child. Miriam will lead the conversation. She is the unofficial head of the Council, though Roberto – currently to her right – will sometimes take over. Miriam was a litigator in her former life. She has that prosecutorial way of speaking, like she’s always storing away information to catch you in a falsehood later. She looks far younger than she is. High cheekbones and light hair. She could pass for thirty-five at her current fifty. There are eight members in total, but only six appear at this meeting. Elise is one of the missing members – the Head of Sanitation and Hygiene. The sewage and water systems, as well as disinfection and public cleanliness initiatives, are under her purview. Her absence may very well be intentional. Everyone knows Elise has been partial to you ever since you glued yourself to the now sixty-seven year old woman’s side when you first arrived. She taught you how to sew, how to make soap, and how to tell a good story. She has a maternal energy that you craved when you were younger. You still crave it, now, if you’re [[honest.]]

“Scout $lastname. I assume you can ascertain why you’ve been called here,” Miriam begins. You meet her eyes across the table and attempt to focus, though it’s difficult when it feels like your ankle wrappings are cutting off your circulation. Dr. Hauser had decided against re-breaking your ankle, and set it very tightly under multiple wrappings. It initially felt better to be stationary, but it has reached a point where you can’t feel your foot. “Scout $lastname?” “Sorry, was that a question?” Miriam frowns. (link: "You have been in this position many times before.")[(set: $risk to it +1)(goto: "many times")] (link: "You have rarely been called here.")[(set: $norisk to it +1)(goto: "rarely")]

You have been called here for a number of infractions over the years. This whole scene feels both familiar and eerily foreign. (if: $individualist > $collectivist)[“We appreciate your fervent commitment to the Community. We always have. In this case, however, we must put your reputation aside and evaluate this incident.](else:)[“We understand that you may not always agree with the way that we lead. We have seen your indifference to the rules of this Community. Nonetheless, we expect adherence to those rules."] You school your face into a neutral expression. “We are disappointed not only in the rashness of your actions concerning the safety of yourself and your scouting team, but also with your blatant disregard for information that is vital to all of us.” Miriam has an impeccable talent for [[scolding.]]

You have only been called in front of the Council once before, as a preteen, and you can’t even remember why. (if: $individualist > $collectivist)[“We appreciate your fervent commitment to the Community. We always have. In this case, however, we must put your reputation aside and evaluate this incident."](else:)[“We understand that you may not always agree with the way that we lead. We have seen your indifference to the rules of this Community. Nonetheless, we expect adherence to those rules."] You school your face into a neutral expression. “We are disappointed not only in the rashness of your actions concerning the safety of yourself and your scouting team, but also with your blatant disregard for information that is vital to all of us.” Miriam has an impeccable talent for [[scolding.]]

(if: $position is "Navigator")[“Those maps are all that we have of this horrid landscape. They represent an enormous amount of work. They’re crucial."](if: $position is "Historian")[“Those historical notes are deeply crucial to recording and maintaining the culture and processes that we have created here. We cannot afford to lose that information."](if: $position is "Scientist")[“Those scientific notes are filled to the brim with crucial discoveries, particularly about our food supply. Losing those records puts us all at risk."](if: $position is "Healer")[“The medical treatments outlined in those notes are crucial to the health of everyone in the Community. Losing those records puts us all at risk."] You wait to see if any of the other council members will follow her chiding. They don't. [[Be impudent.]] [[Be respectful.]]

“If you’ll remember, I’m the one who produced that crucial information,” you retort. “Just because the work is yours, does not mean you’re entitled to throw it away when you please,” Miriam answers, mouth pinched. “It was not when I pleased. We encountered other people. Other people who appeared to be almost unbelievably healthy. They were well-fed; they had clothes and weapons!” No one appears as interested as you expect them to. You know they must have heard all of this from Oliver already, but it bears repeating. “There are people out there who could help us, who could join us. I don’t understand why I seem to be the only one who sees the magnitude of this moment.” You tighten your fists under the [[table.]]

“I understand your concerns and I apologize. I felt the situation warranted drastic action,” you explain calmly. “We encountered other people. Other people who appeared to be almost unbelievably healthy. They were well-fed; they had clothes and weapons.” No one appears as interested as you expect them to. You know they must have heard all of this from Oliver already, but it bears repeating. “There are people out there who could help us, who could join us. I don’t understand why I seem to be the only one who sees the magnitude of this moment.” You tighten your fists under the [[table.]]

“Scout $lastname,” Miriam starts. “I know you want this incident to confirm your theory about the People Across the Orange Plains. However, there is no evidence that this is anything more than a band of three, clearly dangerous, individuals. We know nothing about them and they, thankfully, know nothing about us.” Oliver hasn’t told the Council about them knowing your name. You consider revealing it yourself, for half a second, and then vehemently decide against. This does not seem like an ideal time to give Miriam more ammunition. “Please do not act as though this is simply a personal project of mine. Everyone in this room, like me, is thinking through a sustainable future. A window of opportunity has opened and you want to shut it?” You cannot hide your bewildered disappointment, and you don’t try. Miriam seems to be done humoring [[you.]]

“We have decided to place you on probation for a month,” she announces. She does not sound at all sorry. “Please take the time to assist your scouting team in other areas of work. You will still be able to help them with planning and preparation, but you will not be permitted to go out on scouting missions.” You’d been expecting this. A month isn’t too long; your ankle won’t even be done healing by then. You aren’t sure if this is an attempt at leniency. “Understood,” is all you say. Miriam sighs and leans forward. Her tone is familiar, like she is on your side, even as she leads the opposition. “$name, you know we value you highly as a member of this Community. I have a strong personal admiration for you.” You suppress an eye roll. “But,” she continues. “We cannot accept this behavior in the future. We cannot let you remain a scout if your allegiance to your academic work takes precedence over the safety of [[others.”]]

That puts you on the back foot. You hadn’t anticipated that they would consider taking you out of scouting altogether. You should be treading more carefully. Miriam knows that she’s put you in an untenable position. She smiles faintly. “Take this opportunity to reflect, Scout $lastname,” she says. The other members move to stand. “Thank you for your [[time.”]]

(track: 'intense', 'stop')(track: 'strum', 'play')The cold air feels nice on your skin. In the hot season, as soon as the sun sets, the temperature drops drastically. You have always preferred the cold to the heat. The desert offers only extremes, without the comfort of mild or balmy weather. Another gift lost to your past life – Spring. You begin to walk in the direction of your shack, pausing when you see a figure perched on the rock wall across the warehouse. It’s Oliver. He’s difficult to miss, cutting an imposing figure in the dark of night. He’s smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. (link: "Tease him.")[(set: $playful to it +1)(goto: "tease oliver")] (link: "Give him a break from your teasing. For now.")[(set: $serious to it +1)(goto: "break")]

“Hi,” you say as you approach, trying to make your limp seem less obvious. “Hello,” he replies. “Let me help you.” He moves to stand. You wave him off. “I got it.” You hoist yourself up onto the wall, letting your feet dangle. It feels nice to take the pressure off your bad leg. “Tough meeting?” Oliver asks. He puts the cigarette [[out.]]

“Going for a James Dean thing?” you ask as you approach, trying to make your limp seem less obvious. “You’re missing the leather jacket.” As usual, he ignores your pestering. “Hello,” he greets you. “Let me help you.” He moves to stand. You wave him off. “I got it.” You hoist yourself up onto the wall, letting your feet dangle. It feels nice to take the pressure off your bad leg. “Tough meeting?” Oliver asks. He puts the cigarette [[out.]]

“They certainly weren’t sympathetic. Even with my fractured ankle. I had to limp all the way to the table only to sit down and be reprimanded like a child,” you pout. Oliver raises an eyebrow. “No one helped you get across the room?” “Oliver,” you say seriously. “Picture me. As I am now. Dirty from a scout, lugging my fucked up ankle across the floor behind me. It took a full five minutes! It was dead silent except for the sound of my left foot being dragged across the floor.” Oliver laughs, pauses, and then laughs again. “I’m glad you’re amused,” you huff. “Well you didn’t exactly expect them to pat you on the head and kiss your boo boo, did you?” “You think I should go back and request the boo boo kisses I deserve?” “$name–” You raise a fist in the air. “I will have my boo boo kisses! I will be avenged!” you cry out; too loud for Oliver’s comfort, who begins desperately shushing you. You have mercy on him and [[comply.]]

“I thought you would be more upset,” Oliver says, after you’ve stopped giggling. He actually sounds a bit sheepish. “I mean, I’m not exactly thrilled with how everything went. I’d prefer not to be on probation, but it’s not like I can do much scouting with an injury, anyway.” “That’s not what I meant,” he murmurs. “I thought you would be upset with me. I wasn’t trying to rat you out. I didn’t want to. But the situation was too…” He stops, tries to begin the sentence again, and then decides against it. You’re not sure what to say. He sounds more open, more vulnerable, than you’ve ever known him to be. You can’t look him in the eye. (link-goto: "Coward.", "Coward.")

“Oliver, I’m not mad at you. At all,” you assure him. “I made a choice and these are the consequences of that choice. I can’t put us all in a fatal situation, and then not take any responsibility for it.” He appears to accept that. He might even look relieved. “I think part of the reason the Council members are so overbearing is because they’re a little threatened by you,” he muses. “I mean, as pissed off as I am with you right now–” “Hold on, I thought I was supposed to be the one mad at you–” “As pissed off as I am, I can’t deny that you are one of the few people trying to move us forward. We won’t survive without your skillset, I know that.” Why does everyone keep saying that? “It’s only that...I haven’t felt very safe in my life,” he says, seeming to choose his words carefully. “I was on my own for a while.” You know this. Everyone knows [[this.]]

Oliver came to the Community in his late teens, a few years after you. By then, new arrivals were uncommon. Humans aren’t designed to live without a group for long, especially in a catastrophic wasteland. After Oliver, only a few more newcomers trickled in, and certainly none as young as he. In those days, Oliver’s arrival was riveting. People gossiped about him, speculated about how he’d survived as long as he had. There was a rumor going around that he’d linked up with a larger group, betrayed them at the halfway point, and continued the trek by himself. “I know you and $ezra find my leadership...” He pauses. “Intense.” That’s one way to put it. “I’m trying to preserve my sense of stability. I’m trying to control for all possible negative outcomes. I’m not willing to risk this life here.” Something clicks. Oliver, like everyone, is attempting to cope with deep [[wounds.]]

“Oliver, I’m really sorry.” “I wasn’t asking you to apologize.” His tone is kind. “I know, but I am.” “$name, the thing is, you’re right. We have to know what the People Across the Orange Plains know. It’s important,” he says, letting out a long breath. “Keep pushing me. I promise, I will get there.” Something about Oliver making a promise to you opens your ribcage and sets your chest alight. “Why didn’t you tell the Council that those people knew my name?” you ask. “It didn’t seem pertinent,” he answers. “Really?” you respond, unconvinced. “It didn’t seem pertinent that a group of people outside the Community somehow knew my name and scouting team position?” He shrugs. You let it go. [[Stay for a while longer.]] [[Head home.]]

Oliver removes something from his pocket. It appears to be a small cotton bag, drawstrings hanging freely. He ties them tightly and puts the bag back in his pocket. “Tobacco?” you ask. “Yes,” he replies. “Grandpa Jones told me it’s one of the first things they planted when they arrived here. Isn’t that insane? A group of people trying desperately to survive and their smokes are still a priority.” (if: $position is "Historian")[ You did know this. It is consistent with everything you’ve studied about the people here. Mostly that they like their smokes. ] “I’ve never seen you smoke before,” you say. “I haven’t in months,” he [[admits.]]

Oliver offers to walk you home, but you decline. It is going to be a slow, pathetic walk back to your place. You’re not sure if you’re ready to look that helpless around Oliver. You’d like to get back to scouting as soon as possible, and it won’t help if your scouting leader is accustomed to babying you. Especially with Miriam breathing down your neck, threatening to remove you from your position, you have to be ready to get back to work once you can put even the smallest amount of pressure on your ankle. (link: "You should brush up on your combat as soon as possible.")[(set: $body to it +1)(goto: "walk")] (link: "You should make sure your academic skills stay sharp.")[(set: $mind to it +1)(goto: "walk")]

“Elise taught me how to roll her cigarettes when I was thirteen or fourteen. Probably too young to learn.” You chuckle. “I can stop, if you want,” Oliver offers. “If it bothers you. I won’t smoke around you.” More buzzing in your chest. You really can’t look him in the eye now. Instead you watch his arms and his hands with rapt attention. You briefly wonder how well you would fit against him. “No, it’s okay. I like the smell. It’s comforting. Though your rolling skills leave something to be desired,” you tease. “I think I’m insulted.” “I would be.” You reach out a hand and make a grabbing motion. Oliver deposits the cotton drawstring bag of tobacco and a loose rolling paper in your [[hand.]]

You make a trough shape with the paper in your left hand, and then bring the bag up to your nose. It smells slightly sweet, a little like Oliver. You carefully distribute the dried tobacco into the roll, evening it out precisely. As is expected, Oliver observes with intense focus. You slowly tuck one side of the paper over the tobacco, being mindful to wrap it as tightly as possible. When you’ve reached the end of the roll, you carefully lick the end of the paper and seal off the cigarette. You feel self-conscious and self-possessed all at once. You wonder if Oliver is watching your tongue move across the paper. You wonder if he’ll think of you when he has this in his mouth. “Voila,” you say with a flourish, presenting your finished masterpiece to him. Oliver plucks it out of your hand, inspecting it closely. You think he might be teasing you, but it’s tough to be sure. “Well, Lead Scout Shen? Up to your standards?” “It’s passable,” he smirks. Okay, definitely teasing (link-goto: "you.", "Head home.")

You try to be kind to yourself on your walk home, taking breaks when you need to. When you eventually find yourself in front of your shack, you can only stare. How strange, that this morning there were so many things you did not know yet. Could not have known or predicted. Your lens has shifted, not enough to change your world, but to make everything in it seem slightly off-kilter. You are, finally, at the end of this day. You shower in cold water, removing the dust and grit from your skin, your scalp, and underneath your fingernails. Bed. Miss bed. Want bed. Must be in bed. And yet, when you get there, you lie still and count the cracks in the wood ceiling. Your mind is determined to keep you awake. You ruminate. Toss and turn. Think about the People Across the Orange Plains. Try not to think about the fact that all the people closest to you seem to believe you are integral to their [[survival.]]

Eventually, you abandon the idea of successful sleep tonight. You fight against your better instincts, put your boots back on, and leave. You walk, slowly and as silently as possible, towards $ezra’s. You live in the same section of the Community, but $his place is still a bit of a walk away. There is a general disorganization to living here. Shacks are essentially on top of each other, sharing boundaries and sometimes combining into larger households. It would be completely impossible for an outsider to differentiate one shack from another, let alone find their way through the multiple sections of housing. You hesitate for a moment before entering $ezra’s shack. [[Announce yourself.]] [[Go right in.]]

“It’s me,” you call out. “Oh! Come in.” $He sounds happy to see you. $He sits at the small kitchen table, a mug of tea in front of $him and a book in $his hand that you know $he has read before. New books are impossible to come by. “Hey, you,” $he beams. $He looks angelic. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep.” “Come sit.” $He motions to the chair across from $him. “Tea?” You smile limply and nod. It feels nice to let $ezra take care of (link-goto: "you.", "tea").

$He does not look surprised to see you whatsoever. $He sits at the small kitchen table, a mug of tea in front of $him and a book in $his hand that you know $he has read before. New books are impossible to come by. “Hey, you,” $he beams. $He looks angelic. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep.” “Come sit.” $He motions to the chair across from $him. “Tea?” You smile limply and nod. It feels nice to let $ezra take care of (link-goto: "you.", "tea").

You watch $ezra’s back as $he removes the kettle from the boiler plate and pours the water into a mug. $He removes what appear to be dried chamomile and lavender leaves from their respective jars and wraps them tightly in a fine cloth. $He works quickly, but deliberately, and it is easily the most calming thing you have witnessed all day. “Thank you,” you say when $he places the mug in front of you. You don’t take a sip yet, holding the hot mug in your hands. $ezra sits back down across from you. “How are you?” $he asks. “Oh you know, typical day at the office. Except one of the guys from accounting tried to murder me with a sickle.” “I told you he really wanted those quarterly numbers on time.” $He wags a finger at you. “Seriously though, a sickle? Who the hell was that guy?” “The single most pretentious weapon I’ve ever seen,” $ezra concurs, chuckling and taking another swig of $his tea. “The Council didn’t know how they knew you?” “I didn’t tell [[them.”]]

“Really?” $he asks, surprised. “Why?” “I’m not really sure. Oliver didn’t tell them, so they didn’t know beforehand. It felt like they wouldn’t even really hear it if I did tell them.” You bite your lip. “Maybe I’m being spiteful because they made me feel like a child.” “I don’t think so,” $ezra says. “Can I be immature and whine for a minute and then go back to being an adult right afterward?” “Of course,” $he says, smiling slightly. “Everyone keeps telling me how vital my work is and how much they depend on it. Which, of course, I’m pleased with. I want to help us flourish. I want to be of service, truly.” “$name.” “Hm?” “Stop hedging,” $he scolds. “I’m not judging you. Please begin the whining.” You [[sigh.]]

“I am somehow both the all-important $position and a nuisance to be managed. They refuse to even entertain my suggestions. They want to siphon my hard work and then have me shut up.” $He says nothing, listening. “$ezra, there will come a time when the size of this group will be unsustainable with our current systems. (if: $position is "Navigator")[We will have to expand outside of the immediate geographic area. Outside groups, if there are any, will have an easier time finding us. External threats will become more real.](if: $position is "Historian")[Our cultural and economic processes are built around the needs of a small group, not an expansive one.](if: $position is "Scientist")[Our food supply will not be able to meet the needs of the population.](if: $position is "Healer")[We won’t have enough medical supplies to meet the needs of the population.] We have to start considering other ideas, start adapting faster. The People Across the Orange Plains could be an opportunity for us.” “They could be a threat, too,” $ezra points out. “I know. But it would be...God, $ezra, it would be such a mistake not to even [[try.”]]

$He nods and takes another sip of $his tea. You let out a long exhale. “Okay, whining over.” “Your whining sounds suspiciously like altruistic forethought for the well-being of the people you love,” $ezra says pointedly. $He looks at you and a crease forms in $his forehead. “Can I ask you something selfish? About me?” “Of course,” you reply. “I hope I’m exempt from the people who make you feel like a nuisance to be managed,” $he says. “I want you to be safe. I don’t really give a fuck about the benefits that your work brings me personally. You know that, right?” “That you don’t give a fuck about my work?” You laugh. “You know what I mean. You are a superb $position and I’m grateful for everything you’ve taught me and everyone else. But you could get knocked on the head tomorrow, forget it all, and I’d still be here. Okay?” You nod, actually worried you might start crying. You are the luckiest person in the world to have a friend like $ezra. “Okay,” you [[say.]]

“How is your ankle?” $he asks. (if: $position is "Healer")[“It appears to be a minor fracture,” you explain. “The wrappings are keeping it in place well. Dr. Hauser isn’t thrilled that I’m walking on it already, but it should be fine. I’ll likely be able to return to scouting in about a month, maybe six weeks."](else:)[“Better than when you last saw it, but not by much,” you grumble. “Dr. Hauser said if I keep it wrapped tightly and try not to walk on it excessively, I should be able to return to scouting next month."] “A doctor asked you not to walk and you came straight here?” “Well, not straight here. I walked back to my place first.” You yawn. $ezra groans, running $his hands over $his face. “Stay here,” $he says finally. “For the night.” [[Stay.]] [[Go back to your place.]]

“Sure,” you answer. “If you don’t mind.” “I don’t,” $he says. You nod, feeling suddenly shy. You aren’t sure what to do now. All you are thinking is $ezra and bed and you can’t seem to form other coherent thoughts beyond that. You both sit in silence, drinks in hand, fidgeting. “Tired?” $he asks finally. “Yes,” you say, practically leaping up from the table and following $him into the bedroom. You strip off your boots and your jacket and sit at the end of the mattress, propped up like a cot by a metal [[frame.]]

“I think I want to sleep in my own bed tonight,” you say, looking appropriately apologetic. “Long day.” “Of course,” $ezra says. You chat for another hour or so, sipping tea and rehashing the day. You’re reminded, again, of how difficult it would be to get by without $ezra. You begin to yawn, a good sign that you may actually get to sleep tonight. You hug $ezra tight before you [[go.]]

(track: 'strum', 'stop')(track: 'party', 'play')Days later, you and $ezra trek to the outskirts for a bonfire. $He generously matches your pace. It is nearly dark. You weren’t really feeling up to this today, but now you’re glad to be out. You would be anxious by yourself at home. This will be distracting at the very least. (if: $mind > $body)[You can only study your previous notes for so long before losing focus.](else:)[You can’t participate in any combat or weapons practice with your ankle, and you’re starting to get antsy.] These parties aren’t as crazy as they used to be. The youngest in the Community are now in their twenties and thirties, no longer hormonal teenagers, but these things can still get slightly out of hand. Inhibitions forgotten, fights started, babies born exactly nine months from [[now.]]

It’s not like you’ve never been here before. You’ve sat on top of the covers and talked for hours at a time. You’ve taken an emergency midday nap in $ezra’s bed. This feels different, though. Significant. You get under the sheets in your pants and shirt, probably trailing dust everywhere. $ezra shuts off all the electric lanterns around the shack, and lastly turns off the large lantern in the bedroom. It takes your eyes a few seconds to adjust but, when they do, you see $ezra crawl into bed beside you. You aren’t touching, but you might as well be. Your skin feels hot. You turn onto your side and bring your knees to your chest, facing $ezra’s back. You have a sudden, intense urge to lightly run a finger down the back of $his neck and follow it to the base of $his spine. You settle for inching a bit [[closer.]]

$ezra reaches backwards and finds your leg, running $his thumb soothingly along the muscle of your calf. You let $him, basking in the warmth of $his touch and closing your eyes. “$ezra?” “$name.” $He sounds short of breath. “Is this what friends do?” $He takes an unnervingly long time to respond. “I don’t know,” $he says finally. It is the last thing you remember before drifting off to (link-goto: "sleep.", "go.")

“Chances Cal’s wine will actually be good this time around?” you ask. “Ugh. Doubt it,” $ezra mutters. “Should we have brought some of the fruit wine?” You and $ezra have been trying to perfect the fruit wine fermentation process. It actually isn’t half bad if you can get past the initial acidic taste at the back of your throat. “I don’t think anyone will let you go without a drink tonight, $name,” $he says. “What do you mean?” “Everyone has heard what happened on the scout. The version of the fight I heard was pretty dramatized. You’re definitely the hero of the story. There is rudely no mention of me hauling your wounded ass back to the rover.” “Oh no,” you grumble. Being at the center of the rumor mill for too long is far from ideal. Positive chatter eventually morphs into unpleasant [[gossip.]]

Someone has already started the bonfire by the time you arrive. It blazes high over the desert, lighting up the dusk. The smell of smoke, booze, and sweat permeates the air. There are a lot of people here already, maybe fifty or sixty. Cal Reeves is, as expected, passing out his mediocre wine. He waves when he sees you. “I’ll grab us drinks?” you ask $ezra. “Yes, please. I’m going to say hi to the guys from Lee’s scouting group,” $he replies, nodding $his head in their direction. “Sure thing.” You take off towards Cal. “$name! I’m honored to be in the presence of a local celebrity,” he says as you approach. “Hi, Cal.” Cal Reeves fancies himself the host of these parties. He is well-meaning at best and deeply irritating at worst. (link: "He’s not so bad. Just a massive people pleaser.")[(set: $playful to it +1)(goto: "pleaser")] (link: "He exasperates you.")[(set: $serious to it +1)(goto: "cal bad")]

Cal shoves a drink in your hand, clinking it with his own metal cup. You take a sip. Absolutely terrible. “It’s good,” you say, smiling weakly. He seems pleased. Before he can answer, you are tapped on the shoulder. “Hey, $name.” It’s Sabine Langford. You don’t know her very well, but you know she’s a Council darling. She used to be a scout, but moved into a junior leadership position a few years ago. She’s still assisting the implementation of labor schedules, as far as you [[know.]]

Cal shoves a drink in your hand, clinking it with his own metal cup. You take a sip. Absolutely terrible. Cal watches for your reaction. You give him nothing. Before he can question you, you are tapped on the shoulder. “Hey, $name.” It’s Sabine Langford. You don’t know her very well, but you know she’s a Council darling. She used to be a scout, but moved into a junior leadership position a few years ago. She’s still assisting the implementation of labor schedules, as far as you [[know.]]

Sabine stands about half a foot taller than you. She is lithe, her tanned legs appearing even longer under short linen shorts. Her straight, black hair hangs loose down her back and stops right at the base of her spine. Her face is freckled and soft around the edges. One of those faces you want to reveal all your secrets to. She could be a model, if that career path still existed. “Hi,” you reply. You hope you don’t look as confused as you feel in this moment. Sabine has never shown any particular interest in you before. In fact, you are fairly sure she dislikes you. Sabine, though not a Council member, is regularly privy to their inner workings. She has persistently placed herself the right way, at the right time to be an up and coming decision maker. (link: "You’re not a fan of ladder climbers.")[(set: $collectivist to it +1)(goto: "sabine")] (link: "You have no issue with her desire to get ahead.")[(set: $individualist to it +1)(goto: "sabine")]

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says, sparing a glance at Cal who has already moved on to greeting someone else. “Not at all.” “Are you actually drinking that?” She grimaces at your cup. “It gets better once you’ve had two or three.” You smirk. A small group pushes through to get closer to the booze. You take a few steps backward out of the immediate crowd and Sabine follows. “Look, I...” she begins. “I heard the Council was pretty hard on you after the scouting incident. And I wanted to let you know that I think there’s so much value in having the conversion that you’re trying to have.” “You do?” you ask, surprised. This is not where you pictured this conversation [[going.]]

“Yes. I know in the past I haven’t been supportive of your efforts in trying to sway the Council to expand scouting areas to try to find others.” Okay, you hadn’t known that. “But that you all actually saw other people out there.” She’s not looking at you now but past your head, twisting and fiddling with a ring on her index finger. “That’s incredible. And we should be taking it seriously.” “Thank you,” is all you can think of to say. You’re not quite sure what you’re thanking her for. Sabine has this way about her that makes you want to agree with her. You can tell why she’s so popular with the Council. You want to follow in her footsteps, and you don’t even particularly like her. “What were they like?” she asks, eyes bright. You’ve recited this information dozens of times [[already.]]

“There were three of them, two men and one woman. They came out aggressively. One of them threw an ax at my head,” you begin to explain. “They had weapons, almost more sophisticated than ours. They were clearly well-fed, strong. They appeared healthy.” Sabine nods. You assume she’s heard most of this through the grapevine by now. “Though, I think the drama of coming back with a fractured ankle and telling everyone how aggressive they were and describing the weapons, while it’s all true, has painted a particular picture,” you continue. “I mean it was dangerous, for sure. They tried to kill me. But the leader, Gage, was trying to calm everyone down. I got the sense that the woman, Leah, was protecting her team. I’m the one who catalyzed the conflict. They were responding to the choices I laid out for them.” At this, Sabine’s ears practically perk up. “They were people. Like us. If they had showed up here and asked for help, we would have been [[welcoming."]]

You have been sitting with these thoughts for a while, but have never actually spoken them aloud to anyone. Sabine is now staring at you intently. In the many times you’ve relayed the details of the scout incident, you don’t think you’ve felt as listened to as right now. Sabine looks like she’s trying to memorize the sound of your words. “Wow,” she says finally. Sabine is interrupted when Mona, a scout from a different team, approaches and gives Sabine a light hip check. “Hey, no hogging the hero,” Mona says in a teasing tone, winking at you. (link: "Oof. You hope this “hero” thing doesn’t catch on.")[(set: $collectivist to it +1)(goto: "mona")] (link: "You can’t help but beam, a tiny bit.")[(set: $individualist to it +1)(goto: "mona")]

“You already got the entire story from $ezra yesterday,” Sabine says accusingly. “Hush you.” Mona sticks her tongue out at Sabine. “$name, I have a very important, life-altering question to ask you. You are sworn to secrecy as soon as it comes out of my mouth. Do you accept?” You look to Sabine for some sort of context. She shrugs. “Shoot,” you say. Mona takes a deep breath in, and a deep breath out. You smell booze. “Is $ezra seeing anyone?” she says finally. “And if yes, please forget I asked. Erase this completely from your memory.” You need more wine. This is, unsurprisingly, not the first time you’ve been asked this [[question.]]

“Uh, no, $he isn’t,” you say hastily. “No one.” Mona grins. “Okay, whew.” She wipes imaginary sweat from her forehead. “Speaking of, I should get back to $him actually. I promised to grab $him a drink,” you say and lift your metal cup. You say your temporary farewells to Mona and Sabine. Sabine puts a hand on your arm as you’re walking away. “Come find me later if you want to talk. I really want to hear more.” She sounds sincere. You nod. She smiles, and you feel warm for pleasing her. How is she so good at that? (link: "Chug half of your wine. It’s a party, after all.")[(set: $playful to it +1)(goto: "pick")] (link: "You can’t drink any more of this. It’s disgusting.")[(set: $serious to it +1)(goto: "pick")]

You attempt to make your way back to the booze, but you are interrupted at least four times in the first ten steps. You repeat the story a few times, answer some questions and, finally, have to take a step back for some air. (if: $collectivist > $individualist)[Though you’re certainly tired of reciting the same story over and over, you’re happy you came. With probation looming, you’ve been starting to feel a bit isolated. Being surrounded by Community members, who care, who are happy that you’re safe, is lifting your spirits.](else:)[You feel slightly overwhelmed with the amount of attention this incident has brought you. You prefer to keep to yourself, which is difficult to do in a tight knit group. Not that you don’t have affection for the entirety of your Community – you do. They’re your family. Presently, though, you are missing being able to fly under the radar.] You empty your metal cup, barely managing to not make a face at the taste. You see Oliver and another Lead Scout seated in the sand, far enough away from the bonfire that you have to squint to make sure it’s him. $ezra is likely still waiting patiently for $his drink. You catch Sabine watching you again, unabashedly, like she’s trying to figure you out. (link: "Approach Oliver.")[(set: $choice3 to "oliver")(goto: "Approach Oliver.")] (link: "Find $ezra.")[(set: $choice3 to "ezra")(goto: "ezra party")] (link: "Talk to Sabine.")[(set: $choice3 to "sabine")(goto: "Talk to Sabine.")]

You walk in Oliver’s direction, abandoning your metal cup along the way. He is sitting with Lee, another Lead Scout, both of their forearms resting on bent knees. He notices you advance long before you’ve gotten to him, and you’re forced to look elsewhere to avoid making eye contact for a full two minutes. Lee begins clapping as you come closer. “$name! Our savior!” You put a finger over your lips to playfully shush him, chuckling a bit. Oliver shakes his head. “Mind if I sit?” you ask. Oliver nods. Lee does a dramatic bowing motion. “Please, grace us with your presence! Regale us with your stories of battle!” he cries out. You like Lee. He’s carefree and easygoing; a bit of a strange match for Oliver but probably a good [[influence.]]

You can’t stop thinking about your conversation with Sabine. You are not entirely sure you trust her but, especially now, it might be helpful to have someone like her on your side. The Council essentially asked you to sit down and shut up. Maybe Sabine could be an outlet for influence. You catch her eye in the crowd and wave. She lights up and makes her way toward you. “Hi,” she says. “I was hoping you’d want to talk more.” “I’m looking for advice, actually,” you admit. She looks interested. “About the Council? About the People Across the Orange Plains?” she clarifies. You don’t know if this is a good idea. You’ve had no reason to confide in Sabine in the past, and plenty of reasons to distrust her. She has never been an ally to you before. Why [[now?]]

“Hi, you,” you say as you approach $ezra. $He breaks off from a larger group, moving to your side. “So, I was repelled from the booze area by neverending questions. But I have half of my terrible wine left if you’re interested?” you offer, holding up your metal cup. “I’ll pass for now,” $he snorts. “Also, I am sworn to secrecy as to the identity of this person, but someone has already asked me your relationship status tonight.” “Was it Mona?” $he asks. “What? Yes.” “And you were actually going to keep a secret from me?” $He sounds skeptical. “No, but I was going to make a valiant effort,” you [[pout.]]

(if: $she is "they")[“I’m sure they've done plenty of regaling tonight,” Oliver says, taking a swing of his drink as you sit facing them and cross your legs beneath you.](else:)[“I’m sure $she’s done plenty of regaling tonight,” Oliver says, taking a swing of his drink as you sit facing them and cross your legs beneath you.] “As have you, Ollie,” says Lee. You’re glad to see someone else pick up that nickname. “Or didn’t I witness a certain Lead Scout chew out someone who dared to insinuate that $name wasn’t in the right?” “Did you really?” you ask, shocked, meeting Oliver’s eyes. “You’re the captain of Team $name Is Wrong.” “Interesting way of showing it,” Lee murmurs. Oliver elbows him enough to hurt. “This particular person was exceptionally uninformed and was misrepresenting you and your scouting ability,” Oliver explains. “I made a necessary correction.” “A strong correction,” Lee says, earning a look from Oliver. The idea that Oliver talks about you when you’re not around is sending you into a strange thought spiral. Lee excuses himself to get a drink, bowing to you once more, and takes [[off.]]

“You think I’m the captain of Team $name Is Wrong?” Oliver asks, taking another swig of his drink. “Sometimes.” You shrug. “Well, I mean, you are wrong sometimes,” he says and laughs. “But I want to be on your team. I thought I was. Everyone seems to think you make me…” “Uh oh. I make you what? Annoyed? Incensed? Wish for sweet death?” “I was going to say weak,” he deadpans. “Distracted.” “I can’t picture you distracted.” He doesn’t elaborate. You feel the urge to do Something Stupid coming [[on.]]

You reach out and gently take his wrist, flipping it so you can see the tattoo on the inside of his forearm. His left arm is decorated in black ink, branches and flowers winding around his biceps down to the back of his hand. Hummingbirds and snakes wind through the branches. You can feel him looking at you while you study the details of his arm. He breathes in sharp when you touch him. Don’t do that, you want to tell him. You’re encouraging me. “What is this tree?” you ask, lightly touching the pads of your fingers to the flowers blooming in the bend of his elbow. “It’s a crepe myrtle tree. There were lots of them where I grew up. They bloomed bright red in the summer,” he replies. He stretches his arm out slightly so you can get the full picture. You are struck, once again, by the gentleness of this large [[man.]]

You feel like you always do when you’re challenging Oliver, but more. This feels deeply intimate, like you shouldn’t be doing it with so many people around. Touching the soft skin on the inside of Oliver’s arm feels salacious. The way he is looking at you feels erotic. “And the hummingbirds and snakes?” “Also a nod to my childhood home. They were frequent visitors to our backyard. The hummingbirds were tough to spot, so my dad used to keep a pair of binoculars on the porch at all times in case one flew by.” You nod, eyes still lingering on detailwork. “This is it,” he says. “Hm?” You meet his eyes. “Me [[distracted.”]]

You hear a loud noise from near the bonfire and it’s like a bubble bursts. You turn to find a not insignificant amount of people watching you. Oliver follows your gaze and most everyone averts their eyes. Moment broken, you remove your hands from his skin. You wonder if it’s obvious that you can’t get more than a shallow breath [[in.]]

You return to the larger party eventually, greeting some friends you haven’t talked to yet. Thankfully, the excitement about your scout seems to be dying down as people run out of questions to ask. You are exhausted, your ankle hurts, and you want to go home. As if sensing your growing frustration, $ezra appears by your side. “Ready to get out of here?” $he asks. You nod. “Why do I feel like I’m going to have a massive headache in the morning even though I had one drink?” you ask $ezra. “I feel the same way. God knows what is in that stuff.” $He shudders dramatically. “Next time, we bring our own.” You agree [[wholeheartedly.]]

“I distinctly remember a pinky promise made decades ago that prohibits you from keeping secrets from me,” $ezra says, tapping $his chin. “And vice versa.” “I wasn’t going to actually keep it, just delay it long enough to tease you about it.” “That seems like it betrays the general principle of the pinky promise,” $he muses. “Not in a strictly textual interpretation,” you point out. “I’m not sure this argument would hold water in court,” $he says. $ezra does end up downing the last of your drink, making a face as $he does it. “So?” you ask. “So?” “Are you interested? In Mona?” you clarify. $He gives you a look you’re not sure how to [[interpret.]]

“Are we going to do the thing where you try to set me up with anyone who is vaguely interested in me?” $he asks. “$ezra, everyone is interested in you,” you say, rolling your eyes. “And I’m not setting you up, I’m only asking. You’re avoiding the question.” “No, I am not interested in Mona,” $he says. You feel something light release from your chest. Relief. “Okay, good,” you murmur. “Good?” $he says quizzically. “I mean fine. Everything’s good.” $ezra breaks into what you can only describe as a shit-eating [[grin.]]

“You’re a bad matchmaker. I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be more convincing,” $he teases. “Again, not trying to be a matchmaker,” you point out. “I just want you to be happy.” $ezra smiles warmly at you. “I am happy, sweetheart. Do I not seem happy?” $he asks. “No, you do.” You struggle to find the words. “I only wonder why you haven’t been involved with anyone for a while. You have plenty of options and, $ezra, you’re such a good partner. I don’t get it.” You can’t abide by your own nosiness. You are so deeply curious, though, that it overrides your own shame. “I’m not sure I’m the best partner, to be honest,” $he admits. That is a shock to the system. $ezra is, hands down, the most generous, thoughtful, kind, loving person you have ever met. That anyone could not want $him in their life is not the reality that you live in. You don’t even know how to respond to [[that.]]

“Will you tell me what happened with Diana?” you ask instead. $ezra shrugs. “I mean, you know her. She’s great,” $he says. You nod in agreement. “But after a certain point, it wasn’t…” $He looks at you and tilts $his head. “Natural. And it felt dishonest to continue to be with her once I’d figured that out.” You have the strange urge to take off running. You understand what $he means, of course. The truth of that word – natural – rips open your heart. What are you supposed to do with that? “I can understand that,” is all you say. You fight to keep your voice neutral. $ezra bumps you lightly with $his elbow. “Can we move on from the topic of my love life? Or I’ll be forced to take a trip down memory lane into your dating history.” That’s a threat. “Okay, truce, truce!” You laugh, putting your hands in the [[air.]]

$ezra slings an arm around your shoulders and you can’t resist leaning into $his side. You wrap both arms around $his waist. Your earlier urge to run is replaced by a need to bury yourself in $ezra and breathe there, sleep there, live there. “You worried about my happiness, $name?” $he asks quietly. “All the time,” you answer. “Well, feeling’s mutual at least.” You stand there, wrapped in $ezra, breathing together for a few moments. Part of you wants to back away slowly from this cliff. For the first time, though, you are beginning to consider the consequences of (link-goto: "jumping.", "in.")

“I can’t seem to get through to them. We saw other people out there – living proof! I can’t think of a stronger argument than that,” you explain. “How do I make them see reason?” Sabine puts a delicate hand on your arm and leads you farther from the crowd. “I have no doubt that your arguments and theories are solid. Even before this incident, when I wasn’t on board, I knew your reasoning was sound.” She bites her bottom lip. “This stays between us?” Sabine requests. You nod. She looks genuinely nervous. “You cannot make them see reason on this,” she says strongly. “They won’t. They see themselves, Miriam especially, as protectors. They live on the defensive.” She sounds frustrated. You can [[sympathize.]]

“The Council won’t do anything that appears to be a potential safety hazard. It’s understandable in some ways. They built this place up from nothing and they’re terrified of losing everything, and of being the ones responsible for losing everything. You’re not going to be able to argue and reason your way out of that fear.” You nod, absorbing. You’d known, of course, that the Council viewed themselves as a protective force. What you don’t have is the perspective of being the adult in the room during the early days. You did not set up the electrical rationing system, or the plumbing, or the scouting processes. You didn’t build this place. You haven’t been viewing the Council’s decisions through this lens. “$name, I find you absolutely striking. Your (if: $position is "Navigator") [explorative](if: $position is "Historian")[historical](if: $position is "Scientist")[scientific](if: $position is "Healer")[medical] work speaks for itself. But if you’re serious about this, if you want to explore beyond what is allowed, asking will do nothing. You’ll have to do it yourself or force their hand.” You are perplexed by Sabine’s candor. You had never expected her to be this unbarred, this willing to put aside the risks to her own reputation. Who is this woman? You want to open up her head and dig around in [[there.]]

“Why are you helping me?” you ask, unable to contain your shock and curiosity. “I don’t really know,” she answers, brow furrowed. “I guess I believe you now.” “Believe what?” “That there could actually be others out there. That we may not be fending for ourselves out here,” she explains, looking out over the crowd. “I think that may be a reason the Council isn’t too keen on stuff like this, either. It’s painful to believe that. All of us have spent so long convincing ourselves that our loved ones are gone and we truly only have each other now. It’s a bedrock of the Community – a brand new family. Having hope for something else, opening yourself up to that hurt, it’s scary.” In a few minutes, Sabine has filled your head with lots to [[consider.]]

“You are freakishly insightful. Has anyone ever told you that?” you ask. She laughs. “It’s no special talent. I have lots of practice observing people,” she says. “And what have you observed about me?” You are dying to know her opinion of you. Sabine’s eyes sparkle. “Can I take a rain check on that question?” she asks, smirking to herself like she’s told a private (link-goto: "joke.", "in.")

(track: 'party', 'stop')(track: 'strum', 'play')You are a psychic. You wake up in the morning with a pounding headache right behind your eyes. After dragging yourself through your morning routine motions, you grab a piece of fruit from your counter and head outside. Most of last night’s crowd appears to still be in their homes, else they are walking around like zombies. A little bit like how you look, probably. You make your way to $ezra’s, pushing the pace a little this time. You are beginning to put weight on your ankle again and your obvious limp has diminished. You realize how illogical it is to attempt to power through a fractured ankle, but you are holding out hope regardless. “Good morning, sunshine!” you shout as you enter $ezra’s shack. “It’s a beautiful day!” You expect a hungover groan from bed, but you find $ezra, Oliver and Sabine sitting at the kitchen (link-goto: "table.", "news")

“Morning, sunshine,” Sabine greets, snorting. Her hair is tied up away from her face, revealing dark circles under her eyes. Oliver, too, looks worse for wear. $ezra looks upset. $He won’t meet your eyes. (if: $serious > $playful)[“What’s going on?" you say. The air is heavy. You can feel that you’re seconds away from bad news.](else:)[“Throwing a party without me?" Your tone is playful, but your expression is hard. The air is heavy. You can feel that you’re seconds away from bad news.] “This morning the Council decided to extend your probation through the hot season,” Oliver says. His tone is careful, but his face betrays a quiet anger. “Sabine has been assigned as the third scout to our team while your probation is [[ongoing.”]]

Your ears are ringing. You look to $ezra, as if $he will explain this away. You know what this means. It means the Council is attempting to relieve you of your scouting duties permanently. “What?” you spit. “I know what you’re thinking, $name, but I have no reason to think this is an indefinite probation,” Oliver says. He looks guilty. “You are still permitted to assist in scout planning and preparation. This is temporary.” (link: "React angrily.")[(set: $choice4 to "angry")(goto: "React angrily.")] (link: "Be openly upset.")[(set: $choice4 to "upset")(goto: "Be openly upset.")] (link: "Shut down.")[(set: $choice4 to "freeze")(goto: "Shut down.")]

“Do you think I’m stupid?” you snap. “You expect me to believe they’ll just let me waltz back onto the team after the hot season is over?” Sabine flinches. Oliver holds your gaze, seemingly unaffected by your outburst. You know him better than that. You are going to lose everything. You won’t be able to scout, won’t be able to research, won’t ever see the People Across the Orange Plains. “I think this could be an opportunity to reevaluate our priorities around scouting,” Sabine says. (if: $choice4 is "angry")[If you have to hear one more of her buzz words, you’re going to scream.](if: $choice4 is "upset")[Reevaluate scouting priorities. Without you.](if: $choice4 is "freeze")[You freeze up.] “Sabine, please. Enough.” You can’t hear from her right now. “$name, we’re all on your side here,” she says through gritted teeth. “Are you?” you ask. Sabine says nothing, either unsure how to answer or knowing that nothing she says will be good enough for you right (link-goto: "now.", "leave")

“I can’t believe this,” you say quietly. You are going to lose everything. You won’t be able to scout, won’t be able to research, won’t ever see the People Across the Orange Plains. “I think this could be an opportunity to reevaluate our priorities around scouting,” Sabine says. (if: $choice4 is "angry")[If you have to hear one more of her buzz words, you’re going to scream.](if: $choice4 is "upset")[Reevaluate scouting priorities. Without you.](if: $choice4 is "freeze")[You freeze up.] “Sabine, please. Enough.” You can’t hear from her right now. “$name, we’re all on your side here,” she says through gritted teeth. “Are you?” you ask. Sabine says nothing, either unsure how to answer or knowing that nothing she says will be good enough for you right (link-goto: "now.", "leave")

You nod, eyes wide, and remain silent. You are going to lose everything. You won’t be able to scout, won’t be able to research, won’t ever see the People Across the Orange Plains. “I think this could be an opportunity to reevaluate our priorities around scouting,” Sabine says. (if: $choice4 is "angry")[If you have to hear one more of her buzz words, you’re going to scream.](if: $choice4 is "upset")[Reevaluate scouting priorities. Without you.](if: $choice4 is "freeze")[You freeze up.] “Sabine, please. Enough.” You can’t hear from her right now. “$name, we’re all on your side here,” she says through gritted teeth. “Are you?” you ask. Sabine says nothing, either unsure how to answer or knowing that nothing she says will be good enough for you right (link-goto: "now.", "leave")

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you know that Oliver and $ezra are not your enemies. But they certainly don’t feel like your friends right now, and the jury is still out on Sabine. You turn to $ezra who is still staring down at $his hands like the answers are in the lines of $his palms. “You’ve been quiet,” you accuse. You feel like openly pleading with $him. $ezra, please be with me here. “I don’t know what we could possibly do but wait, $name,” $ezra says sadly. $He looks up, finally, but you don’t see what you wanted there. “Our hands are tied. Please understand.” This from Oliver. (if: $choice4 is "angry")[Fuck this.](if: $choice4 is "upset")[“I understand," you say, voice cracking.](if: $choice4 is "freeze")[You nod.] You can’t be in this room [[anymore.]]

You don’t give any of them the benefit of parting words. In moments you are out $ezra’s door. It is impossible to get away from everyone, a moment to yourself, without walking straight into the desert. (link: "Be careful with your ankle.")[(set: $norisk to it +1)(goto: "elise")] (link: "Who gives a fuck about your ankle? You’re fuming.")[(set: $risk to it +1)(goto: "elise")]

You don’t go too far. You need to be able to find your way back and your ankle is still weak. You go exactly far enough that you can no longer hear the chatter of the Community behind you. If you turn, you can easily spot the housing at the edges of the area. You aim your back towards it and sit down in the dirt. You remind yourself to breathe. You try to calm the panic. You tell yourself that losing your scouting position is not the end of the world, even though it feels like it is. You try not to ruminate on what exactly you will do without scouting. (if: $position is "Navigator")[You can’t map out areas without being able to explore them. No other teams have made a dent in recording the areas surrounding their scouting missions. No one particularly valued it before you. Landscape will go unexplored, scouting missions will be repeated unnecessarily, knowledge will be lost.](if: $position is "Historian")[Your historical research will once again be limited to the Community itself and not the area at large. You will continue to conduct interviews and attend gatherings. You know now, though, that there are others out there. You can’t imagine ever getting over the chance to study a brand new group of people.](if: $position is "Scientist")[You can’t make new discoveries without being able to explore outside the bounds of the Community. Your research will be limited to the weather, the soil, and the restrictions of home. Landscape will go unexplored, the food supply will be threatened, knowledge will be lost.](if: $position is "Healer")[You will continue to work under Dr. Hauser. You will try to make do with what you have in supplies and treatment options. But you can’t imagine ever getting over the chance to consult a brand new group of people, to learn what they know.] You’re not sure how long you’re sitting there when you hear a voice. “Please, I’d like to be alone,” you request, turning around. [[“Oh.”]]

It’s Elise. “Tough day?” she asks, voice tender. She is breathing slightly heavy, the hem of her long skirt dirty, and arms crossed over her chest. Her gray hair is in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. The wrinkles around her eyes tighten when she smiles at you. You want to cry. Something about hearing Elise’s voice immediately opens your tear ducts. [[Let yourself cry.]] [[Don’t. You don’t want to cry in front of her.]]

You allow tears to roll down your cheeks. It feels cathartic. “Help an old woman,” she requests, reaching her hand down for support as she sits down next to you. Once settled, Elise lets out a sigh. She wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she says, wringing her hands together. “I’m trying to be a voice for you in there, but I’m outnumbered.” “I don’t understand what changed. Why the extension?” “It’s complicated, but…” She sighs. “In general, the Council feels they need to discourage you and others from risky scouting. There’s been what they view as a troubling swell of support for expanding scouting areas and searching for other [[groups.”]]

“Help an old woman,” she requests, reaching her hand down for support as she sits down next to you. Once settled, Elise lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she says, wringing her hands together. “I’m trying to be a voice for you in there, but I’m outnumbered.” “I don’t understand what changed. Why the extension?” “It’s complicated, but…” She sighs. “In general, the Council feels they need to discourage you and others from risky scouting. There’s been what they view as a troubling swell of support for expanding scouting areas and searching for other [[groups.”]]

“So I’m being reprimanded because my ideas are too popular?” You want to stomp your feet, throw a tantrum, be a child at the unfairness of it all. “You don’t have the right people on your side, $name. You’ve swayed the young and thrill-seeking, not the old and cautious,” Elise says. She sounds sympathetic, but there’s a call to action buried in there – you think. “So they’ve decided to take me out of the equation completely?” Elise rolls her eyes. (if: $norisk > $risk)[“As far as I know, they’re not executing you," she snorts. “You are so smart and capable, it’s absurd. You don’t need to be on a scouting team to continue your work. You have always been cautious, my dear. Now may be the time to start taking risks."](else:)[“As far as I know, they’re not executing you," she snorts. “You are so smart and capable, it’s absurd. You don’t need to be on a scouting team to continue your work. You have always been a risk-taker, my dear. Use that. Keep going."] “I don’t know how,” you say forlornly. Elise rubs the top of your back in soothing [[circles.]]

“You’ll adapt, $name, you always do,” she says. “Lean on your friends. Trust in your team.” She’s right, you know that. She’s always right. “Do you trust Sabine?” you ask. Elise thinks for a moment. “Sabine is often out for her own goals. I’m sure you know that,” she says. “But I have never known her to be ingenuine or false. And I think she admires you.” Elise turns at the sound of approaching footsteps. “I think someone wants to talk to you,” she (link-goto: "says.", "elise choice")

You say nothing. Oliver sighs and runs his hand through his hair. He looks uncomfortable. Eventually, he sits down beside you. You both stare into the expanse of flat land for a few quiet moments. “I feel like my life is being upended. I feel like my work is being overlooked. I feel that this is all very unfair,” you say. Oliver is studiously watching you. You kick a rock out in front of you, taking a deep inhale and exhale. “I understand that. Really, I do,” he says. The simplicity of it, the sympathy, is somehow exactly what you [[need.]]

You can’t help yourself. You laugh. “That would be a good start.” Oliver seems to calm when he realizes you’re smiling ever so slightly. He sits down beside you and you both stare into the expanse of flat land for a few quiet moments. “I feel like my life is being upended. I feel like my work is being overlooked. I feel that this is all very unfair,” you say. Oliver is studiously watching you. You kick a rock out in front of you, taking a deep inhale and exhale. “I understand that. Really, I do,” he says. The simplicity of it, the sympathy, is somehow exactly what you [[need.]]

“Do you think this was the right choice?” you ask, afraid of the answer. You muster up the courage to look him in the eye. “Are they right? Am I being selfish and putting everyone in danger?” “No,” he says firmly. “The Council is threatened. They’re afraid of change.” He runs his fingers through his long hair, rubbing his eyes with his palms. “And I should have defended you more when I had the chance, in the first meeting. I know that now. It’s what I wanted to do.” He sounds embarrassed. “But I don’t think now is a good time to push,” he continues. “It will only make them push back harder. We have to play this right. $name, I will not let them remove you from this team. I promise.” He sounds so sure. “$name,” he says your name again, waiting for you to turn to look at him. “I’m sorry. Let me help,” he says. There is a look you’ve never seen before on Oliver’s face. It looks like pleading, but it feels like [[longing.]]

“I’ll forgive you on one condition,” you say. You’re grinning now. Oliver visibly relaxes. “Can you help me get back to my place? Angrily stomping out into the desert is surprisingly bad for an injury.” He grins wide at you. It’s beautiful. “That seems like a deal in my favor,” he says and stands, helping you up with a strong grip on your arm. “Alright, hop on.” Oliver turns his back to you and bends his knees. “Oh my god, are you going to give me a piggyback ride?” The image of Oliver – enormous, heavily tattooed, constant frown – carrying you on his back through the Community is too incredible to turn down. “You want me to carry you over one shoulder?” “No, absolutely not. I choose piggyback.” You’re giggling still, hopefully not so much that Oliver will rescind the [[offer.]]

You use your good leg to hoist yourself onto his back. Your arms wind around his neck and his hands move under your thighs to keep you steady. You have never been this close to Oliver. Your chest is pressed up against his back, your chin slotted into the place between his shoulder and neck. He smells like linen. “You know, we really shouldn’t let people see you doing this. Everyone will want a ride.” You are barely containing the laugh bubbling up. “I know plenty of people who will see this as an invitation.” “Please behave,” Oliver sighs, moving his arms to adjust you. It is a much shorter walk being carried by Oliver than it was walking here yourself. You can’t stop thinking about what Elise said. Lean on your friends. Trust in your team. You know that she’s right. It will be easier for you if you accept help. It will preserve your happiness to talk through this with $ezra and to fully place your confidence in Sabine. You bury your face in the back of Oliver’s shirt, already wracked with guilt. You know, to get where you need to go, that you are going to have to take the next step without [[them.]]

<big>Chapter III: [[Escape]]</big>

“Forgiven.” “I haven’t apologized yet,” $he says, suspicious. “Go ahead,” you say, but you’re smiling. You’d forgiven $him the second after you left. “I should have been a voice of support back there. I fucked up,” $he starts. “I know how important scouting is to you. It’s important to me, too. We’re a team.” Of course $ezra is on your team. $He’s always on your team. “So, look, what do you want to do? Whatever it is, I’m in. Want to burn it all down and run away? Leave our shit behind and try to find the ocean?” $He looks at you, serious for a moment. “I’m [[sorry.”]]

“Forgiven.” Well, you tried. “I haven’t apologized yet,” $he says, suspicious. “Go ahead,” you say, but you’re smiling. You’d forgiven $him the second after you left. “I should have been a voice of support back there. I fucked up,” $he starts. “I know how important scouting is to you. It’s important to me, too. We’re a team.” Of course $ezra is on your team. $He’s always on your team. “So, look, what do you want to do? Whatever it is, I’m in. Want to burn it all down and run away? Leave our shit behind and try to find the ocean?” $He looks at you, serious for a moment. “I’m [[sorry.”]]

You softly bump your knee against $his. “Like I said, forgiven. Forgiven one thousand times over.” “I do not deserve you,” $he says. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.” You lean your head against $his shoulder and $he rests $his head on top of yours. “Are you okay?” $he asks after a moment. “I think I will be,” you respond. “Right now it feels like my life is being upended. I’m worried all my work is going to come to a screeching halt and it will all have been for nothing.” “Oliver seems confident that this is a temporary probation,” $he replies. “But even if it wasn’t, you would find a way to adjust. No other scout here does what you do. The rest of us are scavenging for old metal. So if it isn’t scouting, it will be something else you’re being a genius about.” “Elise said something similar,” you admit. “Because we know what we’re talking about. Everything will be fine, $name,” $he says, stroking your [[hair.]]

“Have fun on scouts without me,” you joke. $ezra groans. “I assure you, I won’t. I’m going to be in the middle of a few Sabine and Oliver standoffs, I’m sure.” $He sounds tired already. “I do not envy you that,” you chuckle. “Do you want me to quit? In solidarity?” You think $he’s joking at first, but $his serious expression throws you off. “$ezra, no. What does that solve?” “I come off looking like a self-sacrificing hero? Best friend who ever lived?” “You are those things,” you insist. “Please continue scouting. You have to promise to tell me everything that happens on scouts, every tiny detail.” “Deal.” $He is [[smiling.]]

You can’t stop thinking about what else Elise said. Lean on your friends. Trust in your team. You know that she’s right. It will be easier for you if you accept help. It will preserve your happiness to talk through this with Oliver and to fully place your confidence in Sabine. You are already wracked with guilt. You know, to get where you need to go, that you are going to have to take the next step without [[them.]]

“Why did you take it?” you ask. “Why agree? I thought you were actually trying to help me.” “I am trying to help you, $name,” she insists. “Your extended probation had been decided already and they asked if I would assume your position for now. I have every reason to believe that this will be temporary, and then I will gladly move aside. Would you have wanted me to say no? Have a stranger take over?” She makes a good point. It’s irritating. “Do you believe me?” she asks. “Yes.” “Do you trust me?” she clarifies. [[Be honest.]] [[Hold back.]]

“I don’t know,” you say. She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Please try,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry about your probation. Let me be a part of your team, $name. Please.” Well, when she says it like that, you feel awful. One moment you want to scream at her, the next you want to hold her face in your hands. “I’m sorry, Sabine,” you say. You hope you sound sincere. You really are sorry. “I’ve been unfair to you. It’s hard to separate you from them.” She uncrosses her arms and moves closer to you. She stares at you for a few long moments, and then caves, tracing the line of your jaw with her fingers and tucking your chin in her palm. It is [[heavenly.]]

You pause, start to answer, and then stop yourself. She looks disappointed. “Please try,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry about your probation. Let me be a part of your team, $name. Please.” Well, when she says it like that, you feel awful. One moment you want to scream at her, the next you want to hold her face in your hands. “I’m sorry, Sabine,” you say. You hope you sound sincere. You really are sorry. “I’ve been unfair to you. It’s hard to separate you from them.” She uncrosses her arms and moves closer to you. She stares at you for a few long moments, and then caves, tracing the line of your jaw with her fingers and tucking your chin in her palm. It is [[heavenly.]]

“I stand by what I said last night. About forcing the Council’s hand. They’re trying to be preemptive and eliminate their problem before it grows,” she explains. “And their problem is me.” “For now, yes. I’m sure there have been people before you though, and there will be after, who present them with ideas that they do not like and cannot ignore. I think what you have to figure out is if this is a hill you’re willing to die on.” “And if it is?” you [[ask.]]

That seems to please her. “Then, I hope you’ll take me with you to find the People Across the Orange Plains.” You can’t stop thinking about what Elise said. Lean on your friends. Trust in your team. You know that she’s right. It will be easier for you if you accept help. It will preserve your happiness to talk through this with Oliver and $ezra; to fully place your confidence in Sabine. You are already wracked with guilt. You know, to get where you need to go, that you are going to have to take the next step without [[them.]]

{(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 1")[(link-repeat: "Slot 1")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 1")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 1.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 2")[(link-repeat: "Slot 2")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 2")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 2.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 3")[(link-repeat: "Slot 3")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 3")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 3.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 4")[(link-repeat: "Slot 4")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 4")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 4.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 5")[(link-repeat: "Slot 5")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 5")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 5.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 6")[(link-repeat: "Slot 6")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 6")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 6.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 7")[(link-repeat: "Slot 7")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 7")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 7.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 8")[(link-repeat: "Slot 8")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 8")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 8.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 9")[(link-repeat: "Slot 9")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 9")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 9.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 10")[(link-repeat: "Slot 10")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 10")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 10.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 11")[(link-repeat: "Slot 10")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 11")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 11.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 12")[(link-repeat: "Slot 12")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 12")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 12.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 13")[(link-repeat: "Slot 13")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 13")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 13.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 14")[(link-repeat: "Slot 14")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 14")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 14.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 15")[(link-repeat: "Slot 15")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 15")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 15.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 16")[(link-repeat: "Slot 16")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 16")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 16.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 17")[(link-repeat: "Slot 17")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 17")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 17.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 18")[(link-repeat: "Slot 18")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 18")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 18.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 19")[(link-repeat: "Slot 19")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 19")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 19.]} {(if: (savedgames:) contains "Slot 20")[(link-repeat: "Slot 20")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(load-game:"Slot 20")]](else:)[No saved game in Slot 20.]} (link-goto: "RETURN TO STORY", $lastpassage)

(link: "Delete Slot 1")[ <script>deleteSaveSlot("Slot 1");</script> ] (link: "Delete Slot B")[ <script>deleteSaveSlot("Slot B");</script> ] (link: "Delete Slot something")[ <script>deleteSaveSlot("something");</script> ] (link: "Delete Slot 4")[ <script>deleteSaveSlot("Slot 4");</script> ] (link: "Delete Slot 5")[ <script>deleteSaveSlot("Slot 5");</script> ] (link: "Delete Slot 6")[ <script>deleteSaveSlot("Slot 6");</script> ] (link: "Delete Slot 7")[ <script>deleteSaveSlot("Slot 7");</script> ] (link: "Delete Slot 8")[ <script>deleteSaveSlot("Slot 8");</script> ] (link: "Delete Slot 9")[ <script>deleteSaveSlot("Slot 9");</script> ] (link: "Delete Slot 10")[ <script>deleteSaveSlot("Slot 10");</script> ]

(set: $lastpassage to "")

(if: not ((passage:)'s tags contains "menu"))[(set: $lastpassage to (passage:)'s name)]

Saves Slots: { (set: _saves to (saved-games:)) (for: each _name, ...(datanames: _saves))[ Slot: _name - File Name: (print: _saves's (_name)) ] }

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Elise puts a hand on your shoulder and uses the leverage to push herself back into a standing position. She squeezes. “Love you, sweetie,” she says. “Love you, too,” you tell her retreating form. (if: $choice3 is "oliver")[Oliver is standing a few feet away from you, hands in pockets, watching. You wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. “Can I help you?” It comes out a bit snarkier than intended, but he kind of deserves it. “What do you want from me, $name? You want me to beg for your forgiveness for something out of my control?” He sighs. “Because I will.” (link: "Laugh.")[(goto:"oliver laugh")] (link: "Stay silent.")[(goto: "Stay silent.")]](if: $choice3 is "ezra")[$ezra stands behind you, the most kicked puppy look on $his face. It immediately makes you want to jump into $his arms. You restrain yourself. $He sits, knees touching yours, and reaches $his hand out. You take it, intertwining your fingers. $He brings the back of your hand to $his mouth, presses a kiss to your knuckles, and releases you. “Forgive me,” $he says. (link: "Forgive $him.")[(goto: "Forgive him.")] (link: "Try to hold out.")[(goto: "Try to hold out.")]](if: $choice3 is "sabine")[Sabine is behind you, arms crossed. She looks about as happy as you are at this moment. “I’m not sure what I did that is so offensive to you,” she mutters. Ah, so she’s come out here to confront you. That’s a nice change of pace. You push off the ground and stand to face her. “Sabine, it’s difficult for me to ignore things that are staring me in the face. You have a sudden interest in me, the scouting incident, and then I’m put on extended probation the next day? With you taking my place?” You shake your head. “I know how connected you are, everyone knows. Isn’t it reasonable for me to have some caution around you?” “First of all, it’s not a sudden interest. And I had nothing to do with being your replacement, I was asked completely out of the blue.” She (link: "frowns.")[(goto: "frowns.")]]

You’re wondering why you agreed to this. $ezra, Sabine and Oliver are preparing for a scout in the coming days and you are meant to be assisting them. (if: $serious > $playful)[Though it feels strange, you’re committed to the preparation.] (else:) [You’ve mostly just succeeded in distracting them.] The four of you are on the outskirts of the Community, desert spread out in front of you. You’re painfully close to the place you should be exploring right now. Instead, you are individually restricted within the Community bounds for the time being. The three scouts stand a few feet from you, studying the map they’ve been given. All are dressed for an expedition – long pants, long shirts, dark boots. You are, at least, cooler than they are in a beige tank and linen pants to your [[calf.]]

They’ve selected an area in the opposite direction of your last scout. You’re guessing that’s a Council suggestion, but you wouldn’t know for sure because you were not invited to the last meeting. You have exhausted the list of things you can do without actually being on the scout. You refilled the first aid kit, stocked the rover with extra weapons, cleaned the water jugs, updated the maps, and pretended to know how to check the rover’s tires. Now you sit in the open trunk of the rover, legs crossed underneath you, and flip through your (if: $position is "Navigator")[maps](if: $position is "Historian")[historical notes](if: $position is "Scientist")[scientific notes](if: $position is "Healer")[medical notes]. You have been, some might say obsessively, reviewing the totality of your notes over the past few weeks. Without scouting, you won't be gaining any new evidence, so you may as well look over past information. You catch snippets of the team planning their route. You try actively not to listen, not to get involved, but it’s difficult to keep quiet. You succeed, [[for now.]]

Every so often, one of them will glance your way. Sabine is the only one acting relatively normal. She doesn't seem fully comfortable in your old position, but she appears to have no problem acknowledging the situation you find yourselves in. The same cannot be said for Oliver and $ezra. $ezra tries to act unphased. $His usual attentiveness is absent, replaced by a strange attempt at a version of normalcy. $He has been avoiding topics even tangentially related to scouting and has barely said a word to you this entire morning. You know $he views this as a kindness, but it is starting to unnerve you. Even stranger, Oliver has taken to checking in with you. He asks after your health, your work and your well-being. He diverts from his own plans to include you, useless as you’ve become as a non-scout, in planning and preparation. He tries his best at encouraging nods and smiles that come off pained. You don’t think you like that, either. You look up when you realize the chatter has ceased. The newly-formed scouting team is staring at you. [[Be snarky.]] [[Question them.]] [[Say nothing.]]

“Why are you all looking at me like I’ve grown a third head?” you snap. “We just want to make sure you’re alright. We’re all still a team.” This from $ezra. All this ‘we’ language is tightening your jaw a bit. Sabine has seemed to blend into the team seamlessly. She’s already been challenging the Regime of Oliver (your former job) and has taken well to your team-specific scouting tasks. You have decided, cautiously, to give Sabine a chance. And you’re trying. If you take the time to be introspective, you know it’s not about Sabine as a person. She has been helpful, if not slightly too [[eager.]]

“What is it?” you ask. “We just want to make sure you’re alright. We’re all still a team.” This from $ezra. All this ‘we’ language is tightening your jaw a bit. Sabine has seemed to blend into the team seamlessly. She’s already been challenging the Regime of Oliver (your former job) and has taken well to your team-specific scouting tasks. You have decided, cautiously, to give Sabine a chance. And you’re trying. If you take the time to be introspective, you know it’s not about Sabine as a person. She has been helpful, if not slightly too [[eager.]]

The silence continues. “We just want to make sure you’re alright. We’re all still a team.” This from $ezra. All this ‘we’ language is tightening your jaw a bit. Sabine has seemed to blend into the team seamlessly. She’s already been challenging the Regime of Oliver (your former job) and has taken well to your team-specific scouting tasks. You have decided, cautiously, to give Sabine a chance. And you’re trying. If you take the time to be introspective, you know it’s not about Sabine as a person. She has been helpful, if not slightly too [[eager.]]

The hard truth is it's not about Sabine, but rather, the ease in which you’ve been relegated to a position of futility. The Community as a whole seems to have shifted slightly away from you. Requests that used to plague you have ceased. You no longer attend regular scouting meetings where yours had become a habitual voice. Your value, it seems, has been ousted in the space of a few weeks. (if: $individualism > $collectivism)[Though you have often preferred to keep to yourself, it’s unnerving to be purposely avoided.](else:)[It has been undoubtedly painful.] “I’m fine. Really, I am. You all were right. Elise was right. There are opportunities for me beyond scouting this hot season,” you assure them. $ezra nods enthusiastically. They all seem keen to accept this explanation. You don’t think you are especially [[convincing.]]

“$name,” Sabine pipes up. “I was hoping you could train me a bit. Oliver has introduced me to the basics, but I could really use some additional brushing up on combat, weaponry and anything else that might help.” You don’t know whether this is an authentic ask or a ploy to keep you busy. Likely the latter. Regardless of the actual intent of the request, your ankle has improved enough that you can probably assist her in combat training. You try, not for the first time today, to repress your bitter feelings and view this as an opportunity. It does not (link-goto: "work.", "not work")

“I’ll train you under one condition,” you announce. Sabine blanches. $ezra and Oliver look troubled. “Everyone stops treating me like I have leprosy. Seriously, I’m fine.” $ezra casts $his eyes to the ground. Oliver grimaces. They look guilty. “Deal,” Sabine says finally, the only one to speak up. It’s really hard not to like her [[sometimes.]]

$ezra and Oliver get to work on planning the rover’s return route as you and Sabine walk further into the desert to train. Every day is beginning to feel hotter than the day before. The sun beats down. You squint at Sabine who looks unaffected, somehow even more attractive, in the desperate heat. Her long dark hair is tied in a braid today down the length of her spine, swinging as she walks. Her tanned skin radiates health, her face glows. It’s baffling. You have to get pretty far away from the rest of the team. Sound carries in the desert. Elise says this, sometimes, about gossip. When you were a teenager you could never keep secrets from her. After a night of too much partying, you would walk to her place with your tail between your legs and admit that you’d vomited in your messenger bag or woke up on a stranger’s couch or something worse. She always already knew. “Sound carries in the desert,” she would (link-goto: "say.", "reverie")

“What are you thinking about?” Sabine asks, pulling you out of your reverie. She’s very good at that: Noticing when you slip from the present and into other thoughts. She often pokes and prods at you with questions, as if studying you. You’ve seen her do it to the others. Oliver doesn’t tolerate it. “Just something Elise used to say to me.” Sabine nods and purses her lips slightly. You sense another question on the horizon, but she seems to swallow (link-goto: "it.", "swallow it")

“How much combat training have you had?” you ask once you are both far enough from Oliver and $ezra not to bother them. “Some, from when I was scouting a few years ago. Oliver gave me a brush-up session that was…” She hesitates. “Fast.” “Yes, his training does tend to have a steep learning curve.” You smirk. (if: $body > $mind) [You took to Oliver’s training well at the start, but you know how hard he can push.](else:) [You had issues keeping up with the pace of Oliver’s training at the start as well.] “I think I can hold my own well enough in most circumstances. Maybe not a full-frontal attack, though,” she clarifies. She looks nervous for a moment. It occurs to you, for the first time, that Sabine may be appropriately hesitant to embark on a scouting trip with a team whose last scout almost ended in [[murder.]]

“I wasn’t formally trained, but I can show you what I know,” you offer. “I’m well aware this is a task to keep me busy.” “It’s not,” Sabine says firmly. You give her a disbelieving look. “$name, it’s not. I swear, I wouldn’t waste my own time by asking for a training lesson that wasn’t useful,” she continues. “You held your own against people who were trying to kill you. You sprinted on a fractured ankle.” You only nod slightly. “Oliver and $ezra don’t pity you, they’re worried and they’re uncomfortable with you off the team,” she states. “Please, train me. I need your help.” She’s either telling the truth or she’s an exceptional liar. She’s picked up quickly on the fact that you’re sickened by any pity coming from Oliver or $ezra. “What do you want to know?” you (link-goto: "sigh.", "sabine train")

“Oliver gave me a knife,” she says, gesturing to the small knife strapped to her thigh. “I’m not very comfortable using it. I wasn’t given a weapon on my old scouting team.” You can work with that. You try to remember how your original Lead Scout, years ago, taught you the best way to handle a weapon. You instruct her, first and foremost, to keep her weapon in hand as best she can. A good swing is not worth losing the knife. You teach her how to avoid cutting herself while swinging, a deceptively easy thing to do. You examine her grip, her stances, her speed, and her defense of her own body. Sabine is an extremely fast learner. She pauses, listens, absorbs, and adjusts. She trusts your judgement. She requests feedback. She watches you carefully. After you’re both sweating, tired and out of breath, you suggest a break. Sabine sits directly in the dirt. You join her. It’s silent for a moment, just the sound of your labored breathing. “You’re a good teacher,” she says, voice scraggly. “I always thought you’d be more intimidating.” [[Be flirtatious.]] [[Be disbelieving.]]

“And I’m not anymore?” you say, winking. “I’ll have to step my intimidation game up.” “Please don’t,” she laughs. “I just got over it.” The idea that Sabine has ever been intimidated by you feels very far-fetched. Sabine is the one who has the Council’s ear, is familiar with their inner workings, is this model-esque pillar of competence in the Community. “I don’t think I believe you,” you say. “I remember when I first met you, you know,” she continues. “Well, we sort of met. It was a Council meeting, a few years ago maybe, and you were asking to expand scouting areas. The Council wasn’t thrilled, tried to move onto other agenda items, but you just kept pushing it.” “I’m nothing if not consistent, I guess,” you [[mutter.]]

“You’re intimidated by me?” you gape. “I mean, I was, yeah,” she admits. “I don’t believe you.” “I remember when I first met you, you know,” she continues. “Well, we sort of met. It was a Council meeting, a few years ago maybe, and you were asking to expand scouting areas. The Council wasn’t thrilled, tried to move onto other agenda items, but you just kept pushing it.” “I’m nothing if not consistent, I guess,” you (link-goto: "mutter.", "mutter believe")

“I remember being so nervous about you that day in particular,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re this intelligent, headstrong, attractive, competent person. I think I just got it in my head that you were a threat to me.” “What I’m primarily hearing is that you were attracted to me,” you tease. “Hey, baring my soul here,” she says and laughs. “I’d appreciate you flirting with me after I’m finished embarrassing myself.” [[“Deal.”]]

Sabine smiles and you notice how it brightens up her face. It’s truly unfair how beautiful she is. She shrugs and fiddles with the clasps that are holding her knife holster to her thigh, looking somewhat nervous. It’s unexpectedly endearing. “I hope, even when this is over and you are back on your team, you’ll know that I never had any malicious motives for being here,” she says assuredly. “Well, malicious motives towards you anyway.” “That’s foreboding,” you [[snort.]]

“There’s a lot going on with the Council right now. It’s better to extricate myself for the time being.” It seems like she’s being purposely vague, so you don’t push it. For now. You feel something shifting with Sabine. Maybe you do trust her. Or perhaps, even in the absence of trust, you can appreciate her assistance. Or, maybe, you’re becoming a little [[infatuated.]]

Sabine and you head back to the group just as Oliver is finishing up preparations to leave. Even if your training with Sabine was a fool’s errand, you feel strangely better. You wave goodbye as the team drives off, clutching your notes to your chest. A plan is beginning to form, amorphous and vague, in your head. Curiosity still burns in your chest. You had hoped the flame would die out; wished that time would erode your desire to seek out the People Across the Orange Plains. Instead, you wake up and go to sleep with thoughts of the three people in black. You say their names, Leah and Gage, out loud when you’re alone just to hear (link-goto: "them.", "plan")

“I was threatened by you, $name,” she professes. “I can’t imagine why.” She continues without acknowledging your comment. “Anyway, I guess I wanted to just say thank you for welcoming me, even with everything going on. I know it’s a tough position to be in,” she continues. “I think ‘welcoming’ is maybe giving me too much credit,” you say, grimacing. “Maybe.” She shrugs. “Regardless, I don’t think I would be able to be as accepting as you’ve been. So, thanks.” You nod in reply. You’re still not completely over the notion that Sabine was once intimidated by you. Perhaps you have a bit more aplomb than you give yourself credit (link-goto: "for.", "infatuated.")

Last night, you’d woken up in silence and darkness, unable to put this away. You read through your notes, again, trying to pick up on something you may have missed. You transcribed everything you could remember the night after the attack. Two men and one woman in their 20s or 30s. Black clothing. Advanced weaponry. No discernible accent. Aggressive. Close to a scouting area. Generally healthy. You’ve attempted to ask around a bit, trying to coax information out of anyone who might know something. (if: $risk > $norisk) [You’ve been vocal about your intent to continue researching. If that irritates the Council – good.] (else:)[You’ve been extremely careful with your questioning, not wanting whispers of your research to get back to the Council.] Your research has not been very [[fruitful.]]

Almost everyone has been hesitant to speak with you. It’s like being on probation is contagious. That swell of support that the Council was so worried about seems to have been crushed beneath the weight of their full faculties. You remember what your mom used to say to you as a child when you were frustrated or stuck. The only way through it is through it. Which way is [[through it?]]

You trudge back to the Community, passing blooming plots of land to your right. Members of the Community kneel beside plant beds, pulling root vegetables out of the ground and carrying them in cotton bags tied around their fronts. It’s hard work. Sweat glistens off their arms and chests, and they move at an unyielding pace. The harvest has been adequate this year, or so you’ve heard. You’re not sure if they would inform you if it wasn’t. The rains were plentiful in the cold season, though not so plentiful that irreparable damage was caused to the Community’s shelter. A miracle for this year, but a possible bad omen for next. The easy and tough years seem to be on a [[rotation.]]

These are likely the last root vegetables to be harvested. The seasons change so rapidly that any cold season crop will be decimated in a few weeks. The beans, berries, peppers and tomatoes will be next. Seeds will be saved and guarded like gold. Everything that feeds you now was once carried here by someone intelligent enough to plan ahead, to worry, to predict a snuffing out of almost all things living. You get the eerie, but not unfamiliar, feeling of being an unwelcome being in this world. None of you are supposed to be here. You survive on luck and chance alone, and from decisions made that had nothing to do with you. A man, now dead, came to the Community with seeds in his backpack and now you get to live. It does not feel [[natural.]]

You walk on, past the vegetable plots, towards the housing at the southern end of the Community. It is a busy day today. Some days are, inexplicably, busier than others. Community members rush past you, arms full of food or cloth, kicking up orange dust in their wake. There is no special event or holiday. Only the forward movement of life in a time of survival. Some days are filled to the brim with dread, and this appears to be one of those days. Elise’s shack is in this area. You know you should be headed that way. She will calm you down and steer you in the right direction. You could also seek the scouting group who sent you to the area where you saw the people in black. They may have additional information. Admittedly, if you play your cards right, the Council could be of some help. Are you willing to put your pride aside and grovel a bit? [[Talk to the previous scouting group.]] [[Find Elise.]] [[Try the Council.]]

You have to look back through your notes to find who the previous scouting team was. Eventually, written on the margins of an early scouting report, is the name Lead Scout Talia Stone. You don’t know her well, but you know what she looks like, at least. You find Talia and her scouting team relatively quickly, assisting with the movement of heavier loads of fresh vegetables into storage units on the north side of the Community. “Need some help?” you ask as you approach. Talia grins at you and puts down the box she is holding. She has ruddy blond hair, tied back into a braid that reaches her shoulders. She is tall, clearly strong, and a bit pink from the sun. You haven’t worked with her before, but she has a good reputation as a Lead [[Scout.]]

You snag a bag of sweet squash on your way to Elise’s – her favorites. She’ll see through your attempt to bribe her immediately. “It’s me,” you say when you reach the opening to her shack. “Come in, sweetheart,” she calls out. You enter, pushing the flap aside. Elise’s place is larger than the average tent, but not by much. She loves simplicity and cleanliness. Everything is in its place. It smells like cardamom, somehow, even though you haven’t seen cardamom in [[years.]]

You are on your way to the Council meeting place, attempting to catch someone right as they’re leaving, when you encounter Roberto apparently walking home from a meeting. He is waving to people as he saunters by, patting shoulders, shaking hands. He constantly acts like he’s in the running for an election that doesn’t exist. $ezra always says Roberto gives $him an uneasy feeling. You’re inclined to agree. Nevertheless, you flag him down. He flinches when he sees you, and then fixes his face into a grin. “Scout $lastname,” he greets. His voice is smooth, silver, slippery. You do not trust this man. Which doesn’t mean he cannot be useful to (link-goto: "you.", "roberto")

The other members of the team meet your eyes, but they look skittish, as if you’re going to drag them down into insignificancy with you. “I have a feeling that’s not what you came over for, but you’re more than welcome to help.” She is still smiling. “You saw right through me,” you chuckle, still holding your notes to your chest. Talia raises a light eyebrow, tilting her head just slightly. “Would you mind telling me a little bit about why you sent us to that scouting area a few weeks back? We were told your team had found something interesting, something underground maybe, but we couldn’t find much. Before...you know, the attack.” Talia nods and motions you slightly farther away from her scouting group. You [[follow.]]

“We actually stumbled across the area on our way to a different assigned scouting place. We felt the same way at first, when we first reached that area. It looked deserted, a few buildings had maybe been there before. Nothing special,” she begins. That part sounds familiar. You nod, encouraging her to continue. “We were going to move on when one of the guys heard a sort of rumbling sound. We thought it was the weather, some sort of storm approaching maybe, but it was coming from underneath us.” She says this part quietly. “I don’t understand.” “We didn’t either,” she says. “And we didn’t hear it again. We left, but something about it...wouldn’t leave me alone. I told Oliver to check it out, to see if we’d missed anything obvious.” You are buzzing, and you’re sure she can tell. You are itching to take notes, write down everything Talia is saying verbatim, but you don’t want her to clam [[up.]]

“Wait.” You pause. “Did Oliver know about the rumbling sound? Why wouldn’t he tell us that?” “I didn’t tell him,” Talia says, running a hand down her face. She looks like she will elaborate, and then doesn’t. “Why not?” you prod. She examines you for a moment, mouth clenched, brow furrowed. You must pass the litmus test, because she continues. “Do you remember Scout Keaton? He was my Lead Scout when I first started.” “Joshua Keaton? Yes. Why?” You’re confused. “He had a particular way of doing things. Wouldn’t submit completed reports. Asked us to be close-lipped on exact details of our scouts. He had a general mistrust of the way the Council operated when it came to scouting. Eventually, he was removed as Lead Scout. I think he works in Sanitation now.” You still aren’t [[following.]]

“Wittingly or not, I seem to have imitated him. I submit the reports I need to, but with no more detail than is necessary. I’ve been a competent Lead Scout, I think. Just not a very forthcoming one.” She looks torn. “I should have told Oliver more. You know how he is, though. He would’ve felt he needed to inform the Council and I’m guessing they’d have stepped in.” “Stepped in to stop us from going there?” “Maybe.” She [[shrugs.]]

Talia peeks behind her for a moment, to check if the others are listening. “$name, I would really appreciate your discretion on this. If anyone knew I was intentionally withholding scouting information…” She bites her lip. “I understand,” you say. Her shoulders relax a bit. “I’m really, really sorry you got hurt out there. I didn’t mean to put any of you in a dangerous situation.” She is looking down at your ankle now, still partially [[wrapped.]]

“Talia,” you say. She lifts her face to look at you again. “Even if you had known there was a threat to our lives out there, and you’d told us, I still would have gone.” She gives you a relieved half-smile. “Yes, Oliver has mentioned that you in particular are going to give him a heart attack one day.” “I can’t take all the credit for his high blood pressure. He brings that on himself.” Talia laughs. She has loosened up. She seems to trust that you will keep this to yourself. (link: "You will.")[(set: $collectivism to it +1)(goto: "will talia")] (link: "You might.")[(set: $individualism to it +1)(goto: "might talia")]

You would not put Talia’s position in jeopardy, as yours is now. You thank Talia for her time and promise to help her with a menial task in the future. She retreats back to her team, chatting and laughing with them. You feel a tinge of jealousy. You don’t know exactly where former Lead Scout Joshua Keaton lives, but you’re confident you can find (link-goto: "him.", "keaton")

You don’t want to put Talia’s position in jeopardy, but this information could be helpful in the long run. You thank Talia for her time and promise to help her with a menial task in the future. She retreats back to her team, chatting and laughing with them. You feel a tinge of jealousy. You don’t know exactly where former Lead Scout Joshua Keaton lives, but you’re confident you can find (link-goto: "him.", "keaton")

You have met Joshua Keaton a few times, in passing. You think Oliver has mentioned him a time or two. You have to ask around a bit to find out where his shack is. Eileen in Sanitation eventually points you in the right direction. His place looks like all the others – covered by a tarp tinged orange by the desert and falling apart in places. You find a small-framed man, copper-haired and freckled, sitting on the small wood stoop. He looks old, though you know he can’t be more than a decade older than you. He sits with his elbows balanced on his knees, hands splayed outwards, staring into the [[distance.]]

“I got something for you.” You set the bag of squash down on the table in front of her where she sits, stirring her coffee. She narrows her eyes at you. “You came here to bring me this?” “Yes.” You beam at her, attempting to look convincing. You expect her to call you out on your obvious bribe and ask what you’re up to. She only stares, letting you fidget in the silence. She’s so good at this. “And I have a favor to ask,” you blurt out quickly, sitting in the chair opposite her. She smirks. The woman knows you back to [[front.]]

“I’ve been studying my notes for days. Reading and re-reading everything I have, sure that there’s something there. I’ve been going over everything that happened, conglomerating everything I know. And I keep coming up with nothing. I have nothing,” you say. Elise nods sympathetically. “And yet,” you continue. “The Council seems threatened. What am I missing?” Elise lifts her hands off her mug to wring them in front of her. She is nervous. You know her, too. “I know you haven’t been at the center of anything like this before, but this is somewhat typical. The Council can be very skittish about anything that they view as a possible safety threat,” she explains quietly. “They do not like change.” “Sabine said something similar,” you [[admit.]]

“She’s a very smart woman.” Elise nods. She stands, silent, pouring more hot water into her mug. You wait patiently. You know that if she is going to tell you anything, it will be in her own time. You will not be able to force it. She sits back down across from you, adjusts herself, pulls her long shawl over her chest. You sit quietly. Elise sighs, seemingly decided, and takes a sip of her drink. It must be scorching hot. “You’re not the first person to be reprimanded for pushing this..theory about others out there. Others within reaching distance,” she reveals. You want to hound her with questions, but you remain silent. You don’t want her to stop [[talking.]]

“Joshua Keaton. I almost forgot his name for a moment. He was a Lead Scout. Was exactly like you about this – like a dog with a bone.” She shakes her head. “Very early on, it seemed he was convinced that there was a group of other survivors out there. Close to us. He hadn’t seen anything himself, but he wouldn’t let it go.” You know former Lead Scout Keaton, barely. You’ve never heard any of this before. Elise knows you will have no choice but to speak with him after this. She’s gifting you this, likely against larger external pressure. (link: "Thank her.")[(set: $individualism to it +1)(goto: "thank elise")] (link: "Be discreet.")[(set: $collectivism to it +1)(goto: "no thank elise")]

“Thank you, Elise,” you say. She nods, appearing slightly uncomfortable. “Do you believe me? That the People Across the Orange Plains are out there?” you ask point blank. Elise pauses, stirs her coffee, focuses on a point just above your gaze. “No,” she says, finally. “I think it’s very likely that you encountered a small band of three individuals who have somehow survived, who are dangerous to you. Dangerous to us. It’s likely they will die out [[there.”]]

You say nothing. She knows that you are grateful for her help. You don’t need to call attention to the risk she may be taking by revealing this information. “Do you believe me? That the People Across the Orange Plains are out there?” you ask point blank. Elise pauses, stirs her coffee, focuses on a point just above your gaze. “No,” she says, finally. “I think it’s very likely that you encountered a small band of three individuals who have somehow survived, who are dangerous to you. Dangerous to us. It’s likely they will die out [[there.”]]

You nod. It stings, just a small bit, that Elise does not believe you. You remember what Sabine said about the pain of hoping that there are others, and you immediately forgive Elise. She has experienced a pain that you will likely never be able to relate to. She has seen more than you have. “But,” she qualifies. “I do not agree that you should be prevented from continuing to look.” She winks at you. You grin. Elise was right, as always, when she said you would find a way to adapt to the circumstances. You will have to speak to Joshua (link-goto: "Keaton.", "keaton")

“I appreciate you using the Scout moniker, considering the circumstances,” you say, smiling a bit to show you’re teasing. Just teasing. Roberto laughs louder than is strictly necessary. His linen clothing actually looks pressed, which you imagine would involve him boiling water in a small pot in the early morning and pressing the hot metal against a flat surface. On a daily basis. In a catastrophic wasteland. “What can I do for you?” he asks. He actually looks slightly nervous and, for a moment, you feel a rush of something resembling power. The Council may actually be scared of you. You didn’t really believe it until this second. (link: "Flatter him.")[(set: $collectivism to it +1)(goto: "flatter")] (link: "Be curt.")[(set: $individualism to it +1)(goto: "curt")]

“I know how busy you are, so I’ll keep it quick,” you say, smiling sweetly. “I just wanted to say I appreciated your candor and insight in my Council meeting a few weeks ago. I can’t imagine how much pressure you must be under, with a scout coming back with a fractured ankle talking about other people outside of the Community.” He nods, lips upturned, apparently satisfied. How could a man with a penchant for meaningless flattery fall for his own tricks so easily? “I’m just...confused. Looking for answers,” you say, pouting a bit. “I don’t want to put anyone in danger. Truly. But I would love to better understand the Council’s perspective on my extended probation.” He does not appear to even consider it. It sounds like a rehearsed statement when he [[says –]]

“I’m looking for answers, Roberto,” you say bluntly. “I can’t understand the Council’s decision to further elongate my probation. Why the sudden change of heart?” His smile falls quickly, replaced by an expression of tiredness and irritation. “Scout $lastname. $name. No one on the Council enjoys being punitive.” Agree to [[disagree.]]

“Scout $lastname. $name. No one on the Council enjoys being punitive.” Agree to disagree. “We are worried for your health and safety, and for the safety of everyone in this Community. It was not anyone’s intention to single you out or make you feel blindsided.” Even he can’t believe this tripe. “I have to be honest, Roberto, I feel somewhat singled out,” you mutter, losing a bit of your previous [[charm.]]

“We are worried for your health and safety, and for the safety of everyone in this Community. It was not anyone’s intention to single you out or make you feel blindsided.” Even he can’t believe this tripe. “I have to be honest, Roberto, I feel somewhat singled out,” you mutter. “I know this is your first run in with the Council in this way. But it is fairly common, and well within our purview to suspend individual scouting activities. Lead Scout Lee was on a short probation for some time last year, as you know. Former Lead Scout Keaton was actually permanently removed from his position.” Joshua Keaton? You hadn’t heard that name in a while. He must have been removed from scouting before you ever began (link-goto: "it.", "curt cont")

“I know this is your first run in with the Council in this way. But it is fairly common, and well within our purview to suspend individual scouting activities. Lead Scout Lee was on a short probation for some time last year, as you know. Former Lead Scout Keaton was actually permanently removed from his position.” Joshua Keaton? You hadn’t heard that name in a while. He must have been removed from scouting before you ever began (link-goto: "it.", "curt cont")

“We know how smart you are, $name. No one wants to remove you permanently. We would hate to be put in that position,” he says, still with a tilted leer on his face. What a snake. “Thank you, Roberto. You’ve given me some very helpful insight,” you say, swallowing your disgust. He pats you lightly on the shoulder. You fight a [[grimace.]]

“Chin up. It will be the cold season before you know it.” He says his farewells and continues to move through the crowd, greeting passerbys until he disappears from your view. What an unpleasant person masquerading as an ally. At least you have a path forward. You need to speak to Former Lead Scout Joshua (link-goto: "Keaton.", "keaton")

“Joshua?” you say as you approach. He startles, just a bit, and you feel badly for scaring him. “I’m sorry, I’m $name $lastname.” “I know who you are Scout $lastname,” he says. His voice is scraggly, but he sounds kind. He gives you a curt nod. You like him already. “I was wondering if you would reach out to me. You’ve caused quite a stir around here.” “I hear I’m following in your footsteps,” you counter. He snorts. “Following in my footsteps as the Council’s least favorite person?” he asks. “That is the sense I’m getting, [[yes.”]]

“We’ll get along fine then,” he says and smiles. There’s a presence about him that is very calming. Being treated the way you have been by the Community for weeks – even by members of your own team – has taken more of a toll than you originally realized. People have been acting as though they are afraid of you. This man is looking you in your eye like he has nothing to lose or gain by associating with you. It feels nice. “Sit, please,” he says, and you do. You sit beside him on the stoop, facing forward as well, not looking at him as you speak. It is easier to ask questions this way, you [[think.]]

You struggle to come up with your initial question. There is so much you want to know. You settle for: “What happened when you were a scout? And why haven’t I heard about it until now?” Joshua picks at his nails, fidgets, cracks his fingers. He does not look at you either. “I loved scouting when I first started. I mean, really loved it. I loved the adventure of it, I loved exploring, and I loved being needed. I felt important,” he explains. You nod encouragingly. This resonates with (link-goto: "you.", "keaton convo")

“One day, we were out on a scout,” he continues. “It was supposed to be a typical warehouse raid. There was possibly some electrical wiring left lying around. We found the warehouse, but no wiring. Instead, there were other signs there. I thought they were signs of other human beings. We discovered some footprints in the sand on the floor of the warehouse, along with a knife left there.” “Where?” you can’t help but interrupt. “I have the maps marked still. We left from the south side of the Community. It took us a few hours in the rover. Not very far away.” This is different from where you had been searching when you were [[attacked.]]

“I didn’t even know what we’d found when we found it, but I was excited. I took it to the Council, not expecting anything in particular, and they completely dismissed me,” he mutters. “I was young, I trusted them, so I let it go. Only, we kept finding other hints of life. We’d find scraps of clothing or more footprints or other items left behind by someone.” “And you kept reporting those to the Council?” you ask, itching to pick up your notes and write this down. “At first, yes. Eventually, it became too frustrating to keep being patronized. I started keeping my discoveries to myself. I maintained records, but I didn’t share them. When I became a Lead Scout, I advised my team to be wary about sharing too much information with the Council. I tried to toe the line because I was so positive that I was onto something.” He pauses, picking at his nails [[again.]]

“And then?” you nudge. You can’t help it. “And then, we were on a scout, and it was getting late. It was a bad call on my part as Lead Scout. We’d been out there too long and the sun was starting to go down. And I swear, I heard other people talking. Not my team members, but muffled conversation like there were people not far away. I heard it clear as fucking day; we all did.” He looks at you now, studying your [[reaction.]]

“That night I called the Council together. I had my team behind me. I had doubted myself before, but I knew now that there were others. It felt so urgent at the time.” He laughs sardonically. “They removed me from scouting days later. They implied that I was either lying about it or genuinely crazy enough to believe there were People Across the Orange Plains.” He’s raising his voice slightly now and his words speed up. It’s spilling out. “After a while, I started to doubt myself again. I thought I was crazy. I didn’t talk about it, for years. People would ask what happened, why I wasn’t scouting anymore, and I would lie. I knew the Council preferred it that way. They liked that I had no more breath to lend to my ideas. I got quiet. People stopped gossiping about me eventually.” He purses his [[lips.]]

“You know what it’s like around here. I was happy to be out of the spotlight and feel like I was a part of something again.” (if: $individualism > $collectivism)[You nod slowly. You wouldn’t have related to this feeling a few weeks ago, but you are beginning to understand.](else:)[You nod vigorously. You do know.] “What did the voices sound like?” He seems pleased by the question. He gives you a very vulnerable look. “Younger, if I had to guess. There were lots of voices talking over each other, possibly yelling. They might have been having an [[argument.”]]

Joshua faces forward again and you mimic the movement, watching as a mother and her small child leave their shack across the way. She picks the child up in her arms – a little girl with dark, curly hair. The child’s name is Kira. She’d had a difficult first few months of life. She’d had a high fever, wouldn’t eat, and she was born in the cold season which is always a struggle. The Community had rallied around the child. The Council organized caretaking shifts to give her mother time to rest. Dr. Hauser barely slept for months. Community members offered all they had of their time, their resources, their love. Kira improved after four months of sickness. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The Council threw a [[celebration.]]

You know, to your core – if you had been that child – you would have been cared for as strongly as Kira. You know that your own child would be doted over and celebrated as a miracle. You have never doubted the desperate love that runs through this place like an undercurrent. And yet you have never been more willing to sacrifice it [[all.]]

You leave Joshua’s quickly after he finishes his story. He seems tired in the effort of retelling. Once home, you kick your shoes off onto the floor, not feeling the familiar ache of a long day’s scout at the bottom of your soles. It is still bright out, still the early hours of the afternoon, but you are exhausted. So much of your daily life feels off now. You’re filling your tea kettle with water when you hear rustling outside of your shack. A collective rustling – a lot of movement at once. The sound of many feet walking quickly to a common destination. Something has happened. You lift the front flap of your tent and peer out. Community members, like you, are sticking their heads out of their shacks to appraise the commotion. A woman, Joan, passes by a few feet in front of you. (link: "Flag her down.")[(set: $collectivism to it +1)(goto: "flag joan")] (link: "Follow her.")[(set: $individualism to it +1)(goto: "follow joan")]

“Joan!” you call out. She stops short and turns to you. “What’s going on?” you ask. “I don’t know, $name,” she says. She sounds worried. “Something at the edge. Something about the scouts.” You tense (link-goto: "up.", "follow joan")

(track: 'strum', 'stop')(track: 'cowboy', 'play')Forgoing your shoes, you follow Joan past your neighboring shacks and towards the outskirts of the Community. After a few minutes, you no longer have to follow her – everyone seems to be headed wherever it is that you’re going. Something bad has happened. You can feel it. Panicked bile rises in the back of your throat. The group leads you to the edge of the Community where you began your day this morning. The hot dirt is painful beneath your bare feet. The crowd slows their pace, and you weave through bodies to arrive at the front of the pack. All you can discern initially is a large cloud of dust, moving slowly. Eventually, it comes close enough that you can see it is $ezra, Oliver and Sabine pushing the rover forward. Your chest constricts. Even from here, you can tell that the three of them look deathly tired. A nervous murmur ripples through the group as your friends come into [[focus.]]

Years ago, when you were a novice scout, a scouting team did not return by nightfall. Though the general route was known, even with all other scouting groups searching, nothing turned up for days. On the ninth day, a dead rover was found partially submerged by a dune. You remember the bodies – four of them – carried back through the Community and laid to rest. There was more death in those early years, and funeral rites were often given simultaneously. That week, a young child had succumbed to a fever. An older community member had died of infection. Six graves, side by side, in the deep desert. It was the only time anyone would go far outside the bounds of the Community in the dark. The Council felt it dangerous to be too far from home at night. Oliver always double, triple, quadruple checks the rover battery before embarking. You would tease him about it sometimes, on his third or fourth check of the rover. It occurs to you now that he may always have been thinking steps ahead to a slow death in the [[desert.]]

You begin to jog forward, and many follow your lead. The three scouts stop when they see you, heads down and hands on knees, shoulders heaving with the weight of their breathing. $ezra collapses onto $his palms and knees. You are sprinting now. Someone shouts for Dr. Hauser. “$ezra!” you scream. You grind to a halt in front of $ezra, dropping to your knees in front of $him. $His neck is craned inward so you can’t see $his face, else your hands would have been on $his cheeks by now. You restrain yourself from lifting $his chin to meet your eyes, to search for a signal in $his gaze that $he’s [[okay.]]

“Water, shit, water,” you mutter, rising and moving towards the rover. “No stores,” Oliver croaks from beside you. “No water left.” Him and Sabine are still crouched with their palms on their knees, breathing heavily, trying to shield their faces from the sun. Sabine looks like she may vomit. “They need water!” you shout to the approaching group. Some turn back, having heard your direction, and others surround the scouts. A woman begins rubbing Sabine’s back and she does end up vomiting. You see Lee check in with Oliver, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to steady him. You crouch down to $ezra’s level, using your body to shield $him from the sun. $He still isn’t talking, but it seems like $his breathing has calmed a [[bit.]]

You’ve positioned yourself under $ezra and are supporting $his weight by the time Dr. Hauser arrives, fully prepared to carry $him back yourself. Water arrives shortly after. Someone presses a cool washcloth to $ezra’s forehead and hands you a store of water. You tilt the water into $his mouth and $he takes generous gulps. Dr. Hauser directs Community members with stretchers to assist the scouts. Oliver refuses, beginning to walk back with Lee’s support. Sabine is tearful, but also refuses. $ezra could not refuse even if $he wanted to. $He hasn’t spoken yet. You grip $his hand tightly as $he is carried back, eyes closed. You walk quickly to keep up with the pace, your eyes never leaving $ezra’s face. Finally, $he squeezes your hand back and you [[exhale.]]

(track: 'cowboy', 'stop')(track: 'strum', 'play')(if: $position is "Healer")[It is dark when Dr. Hauser finally lets you into the medical tent to see $ezra. You offered to help him – multiple times – but he seemed to think you were too upset. You rush in, expecting to see the half-dead $ezra you saw earlier. Instead, you see your $ezra – upright on a cot, smiling, laughing with Dr. Hauser. You want to burst into tears. “Hi $name,” Dr. Hauser greets, a teasing lilt to his voice. “$ezra is doing much better, as you can see. It was dehydration and heat exhaustion as you suggested, though it was hard to make your diagnosis out through the tears.” You’re too relieved to be embarrassed. You pitch yourself at $ezra, wrapping your arms around $him and pulling $him tightly to (link-goto: "you.", "ezra heal")](else:)[It is dark when Dr. Hauser finally lets you into the medical tent to see $ezra. You’ve been oscillating between threatening and begging him for hours. You rush in, expecting to see the half-dead $ezra you saw earlier. Instead, you see your $ezra – upright on a cot, smiling, laughing with Dr. Hauser. You want to burst into tears. “Ah, it’s the $woman who was threatening me just a few hours ago. Welcome, Scout $lastname,” Dr. Hauser says, chuckling. You’re too relieved to be embarrassed. You pitch yourself at $ezra, wrapping your arms around $him and pulling $him tightly to (link-goto: "you.", "ezra heal")]

(if: $position is "Healer")[“Careful with $him, $name,” Dr. Hauser warns.](else:)[“Careful with $him, Scout $lastname,” Dr. Hauser warns.] “Hi you,” says $ezra happily, returning your embrace. $His voice sounds full, loud, and warm. You pull back from the hug to fully examine $ezra. $He looks fine on the outside. $He is covered head to toe in dirt, but $he appears physically well. It would be tough to believe $he’d collapsed from exhaustion a few hours ago. [[Get emotional.]] [[Remain calm.]]

You feel your chest tighten up and tears prick at your eyes. $ezra pouts sympathetically, and takes your hand. “I’m fine, $name. I’m okay,” $he coos. “You scared me.” You can’t help the way your voice cracks, that pre-cry sound. “I know, $name, I’m sorry.” $He does sound very, very sorry. “I should have been there,” you assert, wiping underneath your eyes. “What happened out (link-goto: "there?”", "what happened")

You breathe in deeply and breathe out fully. $ezra takes your hand, stroking your palm with $his thumb. “What happened out there?” you ask, still somehow out of breath. “We were on our way out there when the battery died. We hadn’t reached the scouting area, but we were still quite far from here. I’m not sure how far exactly,” $ezra explains. “Oliver couldn’t get it started again. The water stores were strapped down ineffectively and they fell over and spilled at some point in the trip.” “So you decided to push the rover back?” you ask incredulously. $ezra (link-goto: "shrugs.", "happened two")

“I said the same thing,” Dr. Hauser murmurs from across the tent, working over his desk with his back turned to you. “We thought we could do it,” $ezra says. “We didn’t want to lose the rover if the dunes kicked up and buried it.” If you had been on that scout you would have recommended the same thing. The rovers are invaluable. You know this, logically, and still you are pissed off. (link: "Scold $ezra.")[(set: $serious to it +1)(goto: "scold ezra")] (link: "Take $his hand.")[(set: $playful to it +1)(goto: "take hand")]

“We were on our way out there when the battery died. We hadn’t reached the scouting area, but we were still quite far from here. I’m not sure how far exactly,” $ezra explains. “Oliver couldn’t get it started again. The water stores were strapped down ineffectively and they fell over and spilled at some point in the trip.” “So you decided to push the rover back?” you ask incredulously. $ezra (link-goto: "shrugs.", "happened two")

“I can’t believe you would put your life at risk for that piece of junk,” you lash out. “You could have died because of your recklessness, all of you could have died!” “Hey,” $ezra says. You look up. $He waves a hand in your face. “Right here. Still breathing and with you. Today, and tomorrow, and the day after that.” You sniffle, anger dissolving as quickly as it [[came.]]

You take $ezra’s hand in yours, taking deep breaths. You come back to the present, recognizing that your best friend is alive and talking to you. The bad thing – the worst thing – did not happen. “Hey,” $ezra says softly. You look up. $He waves a hand in your face. “Right here. Still breathing and with you. Today, and tomorrow, and the day after that.” You (link-goto: "sniffle.", "came.")

“What about the day after that?” you accuse. “I’ll still be here.” “And the day after that?” “Yes.” “And the day after that?” “I’ll have to check my schedule on that one,” $he teases, scratching $his chin. “You promise you’re okay?” you ask. “I promise. I was exhausted, I was under the sun for too long, but I’m fine now. Sabine was in bad shape, too, but she wanted to go back to her place.” “And Oliver?” “He refused help. I think we all just needed to be out of the sun and hydrate. No harm no foul,” $he says and smiles [[weakly.]]

“Lots of harm and enormous foul,” you disagree. “Can I walk you home?” “Dr. Hauser wants me to stay here overnight. Just to be safe.” “Yes, I do,” Dr. Hauser chimes in, back still turned. “Let me sleep here with you,” you beg. “No, $name.” $ezra shakes $his head. “Sleep in your own bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” You don’t feel that it’s likely you will get any sleep tonight. In your panic, you’d completely pushed former Lead Scout Joshua Keaton out of your mind. You’ll tell $ezra everything, you assure yourself. Later. When $he can no longer stop you. (link: "Stay by $ezra’s side.")[(set: $choice6 to "ezra")(goto: "ezra ro scene")] (link: "Find Oliver.")[(set: $choice6 to "oliver")(goto: "oliver ro scene")] (link: "Go to Sabine's.")[(set: $choice6 to "sabine")(goto: "sabine ro scene")]

“Dr. Hauser?” you call out. “Yes, $name?” he answers from the other side of the tent. “Can I sleep here tonight?” “No, $she can’t–” “Of course you can,” Dr. Hauser replies over $ezra. “I should have a mat and probably something you could use as a pillow in the closet to your right there.” You give $ezra a triumphant look. $He rolls $his eyes, but you can tell $he’s [[pleased.]]

You walk to Oliver’s shack, determined, fuming. “It’s me,” you say when you arrive in front of his place, almost barging in but stopping yourself at the last second. Oliver opens the flap, peering out, clearly confused. “Hello?” he says. You push past him into the front room. You’ve been here before, but only for scout planning. It’s simple, like most shacks in the Community. The kitchen is sparse, the bedroom shielded by a long sheet of cloth in the doorway. Only one lantern lights the entirety of the room with a dim glow. You attempt to ignore the odd feeling of being here [[alone.]]

Sabine’s shack is not difficult to find. Everyone seems to know where she lives. It is decorated well – a difficult endeavor in the middle of the barren desert. There is a beautiful cloth, dyed different shades of blue, draped across the kitchen table. Chamomile flowers pressed in opaque glass line the doorways. Lanterns are housed in black metal carriers. Sabine herself appears worse for the wear. She looks tired, her face peaked, her hair unwashed. She has not said a word to you since you arrived. She stands in front of the metal sink, arms stiff and propped up behind her on the [[counter.]]

You rummage through the closet and find a straw floor mat and unfurl it onto the floor next to $ezra’s cot. You find a large cloth and fold it into a messy pillow shape, placing it at the top of the mat. Dr. Hauser bids you good night, but assures you he will be checking in on $ezra every few hours or so. You lay flat on your back, arms crossed over your upper chest like you’re a body in a coffin. The floor is strangely [[comfortable.]]

Your plan is to drift off quietly and let $ezra sleep. Instead, you think of the many times you slept near each other as children. In the early days, the younger kids were shepherded around in haphazard schooling and play groups. $ezra and you were inseparable, refusing to be split up and throwing tantrums when you inevitably were. At night, the children without parents – which were most of you – slept in a large tented room, now the Council’s meeting room. $ezra and you slept next to each other on adjacent mats every night for a majority of your defining years. You chatted until reprimanded by chaperoning adults or other irritated children. You woke up next to each other every [[day.]]

You feel the prickles of emotion at the base of your throat and bite your bottom lip, hard, to keep it down. Silent tears fall down your cheeks. You try to take a full breath and urge yourself to calm down. Your breath comes out shaking, betraying you, and you sniffle. “$name,” $ezra whispers. You turn on your side and look up to face $him. $He is looking at you. “I’m sorry,” you say, voice cracking. You wipe the tears from your face. “Please, love, it’s okay. I’m okay,” $he says, sounding a bit choked up as [[well.]]

“I know, I know,” you say quietly. The tears will not stop coming now. “$name, I hate to see you cry.” $He sounds like $he’s in pain. “I’ll stop soon, just give me a second,” you promise, chuckling a bit at your apparent helplessness in the face of overwhelming emotion. “Just thinking about everything.” “What’s everything?” $he asks. “You and me, I mean. Growing up. Everything,” you clarify. “When we used to sleep next to each other as kids. Remember we used to get shushed every night?” “I remember everything,” $ezra says, shifting back onto $his [[back.]]

You take the opportunity to look at $him, unashamedly admiring $his glowing skin. $His cheekbones are sharp, lifting $his eyes into a normally easy smile. At the moment, $he is frowning. You reach your hand up, stretching a bit at the shoulder to reach $him. $ezra brings your hand to $his lips, kissing the back of your hand and then the first knuckle of your middle finger. You inhale sharply. This feels like a line crossed. “Truth or dare?” you ask. $ezra snickers. “Truth.” (link: "Be brave.")[(set: $risk to it +1)(goto: "brave")] (link: "Chicken out.")[(set: $norisk to it +1)(goto: "chicken")]

“How do you feel about me?” you ask, heart beating in your ears, in the tips of your fingers. $ezra lets go of your hand. “Dare,” $he says. “No fair.” “You know how I feel about you, $name. You have to know by now. Everyone knows.” $He is talking to the ceiling. You let out a heavy breath. $He turns onto $his other side so $his back is to you. You sense that this is the end of the conversation. You stare at $his back, willing $him to turn, to clue you in, to say something. You fall asleep [[waiting.]]

“Do you think they’ll actually let me back onto the scouting team when the cold season arrives?” you ask. “I don’t know,” $he says sadly. “I hope so. If not, I’m quitting.” “$ezra, no,” you whisper fervently, propping yourself up on an elbow so you can better see $him. “Don’t do that.” “It’s done. I told Oliver if the Council permanently removed you, I no longer want to be a [[scout.”]]

Surprisingly, you sleep like the dead and wake up before the sun has fully risen. (if: $choice6 is "ezra")[You sneak out while $ezra is sleeping, tiptoeing out of the tent and into the dawn.] Somewhere in the past twenty-four hours, you have made a dangerous decision. You spend the day planning. You organize notes and double check maps. You pack your bag to the brim, ensuring you have your $weapon and a supply of food and water packs. (link: "Practice with your $weapon.")[(set: $body to it +1)(goto: "practice weapon")] (link: "Review your notes. Again.")[(set: $mind to it +1)(goto: "read notes")]

You gape at $him. “It’s not much of a threat,” $he continues. “There are plenty of people who could take my place. Unlike you.” “You’re going to make me cry all over again,” you say, breathless. “Please don’t,” $he responds. You shift onto your back, staring at the ceiling, heart full. Once you hear the steadied rhythm of $ezra’s breathing, you let your eyes (link-goto: "close.", "waiting.")

You turn from examining the room to face Oliver. He has clearly just showered, hair wet and sticking to his temples. You can see the expanse of his tattoos under his white tank. He looks sunburned and tired. Most of your anger dissipates. “What happened today?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “What the hell possessed you to lead the team to push the rover back?” “We can’t afford to lose a rover. I wasn’t confident we’d be able to find our way back to it if we’d left it,” he explains [[calmly.]]

“Oliver, I do not have the words to properly convey how dangerous of a choice that was.” “It was a team decision,” he says through gritted teeth. (if: $norisk > $risk)["I don’t expect you to agree, but it was a choice we made under pressure. We all decided it was worth the risk. And it was.”](else:)["You would have done the same."] “$ezra collapsed!” you sputter. He pauses, looks into your eyes, shakes his head, and then holds your gaze again. His wet hair hangs just below the curve of his brow, so you can’t quite see the black of his (link-goto: "eyes.", "oliver cont")

“Did you come here just to yell at me?” he breathes out. “And to make sure you were okay. I can multitask.” Oliver snorts and cards his fingers through his hair. You can see his eyes now. “I know that you’re worried about $ezra. I was, too. But, I swear to you, I would not have let anything happen to $him,” he says, exhaling loudly through his nose. “And what about you?” “What about me?” he mutters. You place your hands behind you so that you can hop up to sit on the kitchen counter and rest your right foot on the countertop, pulling your shin towards your [[chest.]]

“You could have died, Oliver,” you say. This appears to amuse him somewhat. “Since when have you worried about me?” he asks in a low voice, moving closer to where you are sitting. “Since always,” you protest. “But mostly since I now can’t keep my eye on you out there.” “I’m the team leader. I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you,” he points out. You are keenly aware that Oliver has closed some of the distance between you. He’s not quite in your space yet, but you could reach out and touch him, if you wanted to. “Because I’m a liability,” you state. “That’s not what I [[meant.”]]

“What did you mean?” You’re not sure why you’re insulted all of a sudden. You feel your anger at Oliver is justified, though maybe not about this. “Why are you always starting arguments with me?” he says forlornly. He looks up at the ceiling, as if praying. “Are you satisfied I’m off your team? Pleased that you no longer have to put up with provocations to your authority?” “You are not off the team, you’re on probation,” he says, jaw tight. “As for being pleased that you’re not on scouts with me...I do not have the words to explain to you how wrong you are.” (link: "Accept that explanation.")[(set: $norisk to it +1)(goto: "accept")] (link: "Challenge it.")[(set: $risk to it +1)(goto: "challenge")]

You want to press him on that, but you won't. You'll leave it for now. “Alright, good,” you acquise. “Okay.” He tilts his head slightly. The movement shakes some water from his hair loose; you feel the drops on your skin. You hadn’t realized he’d moved even closer in the midst of the brief argument. “Okay then,” he says warily, as though not confident you’ve actually let this go. When you don’t continue, he nods, moving back a bit. You miss his presence immediately. “The hot season will end, $name, and then everything will go back to normal,” he assures you, and then snickers. “I normally hate the cold season and now I’m biding my time until it comes.” Your whole body tenses at that, but Oliver’s back is already turned to you. “Go home, $name,” he says sternly. “Get some (link-goto: "sleep.”", "waiting.")

“Try,” you challenge. What do you think of me? you want to scream. A hand on your chin lifts your eyeline. Oliver’s thumb and forefinger cradle your chin, his other fingers resting at the very top of your throat. You have to remind yourself to breathe. You are so close you can feel his breath on your face. You involuntarily wet your lips with your tongue and he watches the movement. His eyes dart from yours, to your lips, and then back (link-goto: "again.", "oliver cont two")

“Go home, $name,” he says finally, a raspiness to his voice. “Get some sleep. We can argue about this some other day. Every fucking day, if you’d like.” “Okay,” you murmur. It is the fastest you have ever given into a dispute with Oliver. Everything feels off balance, with him this close. He takes a step back so you can remove yourself from the counter. You leave in a daze, feeling like you are retreating from (link-goto: "something.", "waiting.")

“Come to gloat?” she asks. Her eyes are red-rimmed and the bags under them appear darker than before. “What?” you sputter. “My first scout as part of the team and everyone almost dies.” She laughs sardonically. “The symbolism is almost too perfect. A Council shill can’t possibly do your job.” “Sabine, it was an accident. You had nothing to do with it,” you say, cautiously approaching [[her.]]

“I didn’t strap the water stores down correctly,” she says. “Like an idiot.” “Oliver and $ezra should have double-checked; that’s a team responsibility.” “You would have done it right,” she mutters. “Hey, whoa, I thought we were on the same side now,” you accuse. “I at least thought we’d made it to a cease fire.” “Me too,” she says, twirling the end of her hair around a finger. “But I can’t help but feel like I’m competing against you.” “I can relate,” you admit. “I didn’t come here to gloat. I [[promise.”]]

“Why did you come?” she asks. “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” you answer honestly. “I’m okay.” “You don’t look it.” “Thanks,” she snorts. You both stand in silence for a few beats. You shouldn’t have come here. “I haven’t felt like myself lately,” she admits. “I’m disorganized. My priorities are backwards. And you–” She stops. (link: "“What about me?”")[(set: $risk to it +1)(goto: "what about")] (link: "Let it go.")[(set: $norisk to it +1)(goto: "let it go")]

“What about me?” Her pupils widen, lips curl, and she brings her hands to rest on opposite elbows. “I don’t know what to do with you, to be honest,” she says. “I’m normally...very good at compartmentalizing. Lots of the relationships in my life have felt political for so long. I’ve identified those who I need to fulfill goals from those I can truly trust. I’ve separated those I love from people I can work with to get ahead.” She looks you in the eye, studying you, watching your expression change. It is a look you are now very familiar [[with.]]

You let her breathe, organize her thoughts, and eventually she speaks. “I’d like to try out that cease fire that you mentioned,” she says. Her voice holds a tinge of trepidation. “If you’d still be willing to offer it, that is.” “Of course.” “And really, I am okay,” she says. “Just a bruised (link-goto: "ego.”", "says.")

“I guess I just don’t know where to put you,” she confesses. “It feels like things are changing. Fast. And I don’t feel ready.” “And that has to do with me?” At this, she smiles. “I think so,” she [[says.]]

You take in her fatigued demeanor, downcast eyes, and mussed hair. Even deathly tired, and evidently embarrassed, you are captivated by her. “You should get some sleep,” you advise. She nods. “I will,” she says. “See you tomorrow?” You hesitate, and you think she notices. “Yeah. Maybe.” You try to sound casual. She doesn’t call you (link-goto: "on it.", "waiting.")

You go over some weaponry basics, not unlike what you taught Sabine the day prior. You have no idea what this day will evolve into, and you want to be prepared. You pace, a lot. You think about $ezra and what constitutes a lie by omission. You think of Oliver and Sabine and consequences. You feel sad, but it does not move you. The decision has been made. You consider Elise and how much you love her. You wonder how she fits into all of (link-goto: "this.", "escape")

The more you go over your notes, the more convinced you are that this is the right course of action. Oliver would call that confirmation bias. You ignore the thought. You pace, a lot. You think about $ezra and what constitutes a lie by omission. You think of Oliver and Sabine and consequences. You feel sad, but it does not move you. The decision has been made. You consider Elise and how much you love her. You wonder how she fits into all of (link-goto: "this.", "escape")

At dusk, you do one last sweep, hoist your bag onto your back, and leave your home. You walk leisurely, adrenaline flooding your body, quelling the urge to sprint for the outskirts. You reach the spot you fell to your knees in front of $ezra, just a half a day before, and peek into the dead rover. As suspected, the keys are still in the ignition. You hold in a relieved sound. You pull the keys from the ignition, keep them tight in your fist, and make your way back through the center of the Community towards the other side. People mill about, some nodding at you and some avoiding your gaze. It helps to be invisible now. You pray you don’t see Sabine or Oliver. You hope $ezra is [[resting.]]

Despite a packed bag and what you imagine is a terrified look on your face, you go relatively unnoticed. The rovers are parked haphazardly at the south edge of the Community, sitting unguarded. You vaguely remember a short period of time when the rovers were locked after a drunken mishap resulted in a blown transmission. Hopefully, that is no longer the case. You throw your bag into the trunk of the farthest rover, pulling your $weapon and maps out beforehand, and lift yourself into the driver’s seat. You inhale, hold your breath, and exhale. You pray that rover keys are, as you believe, ubiquitous. You give yourself one last chance to reconsider. And then, you insert the key into the ignition. The rover roars to life. You flinch. (link-goto: "Sound carries in the desert.", "desert escape")

(if: $position is "Navigator")[You pull out, as quickly as possible, facing away from the lights of your home. The light shines weakly on your back until you move far enough away to escape. It is not completely dark yet. You feel confident that you will be able to find the right path while the sun is still up. Navigating in the dark is a different story.](else:)[You pull out, as quickly as possible, facing away from the lights of your home. The light shines weakly on your back until you move far enough away to escape. It is not completely dark yet. You will have an hour, maybe less, to get on the right path before the night makes it that much harder to navigate. You wish you had paid more attention when Oliver was driving last time.] You sit with the map open on your lap, pushing the speed of the rover just enough that you’re not worried about battery death. You think it took you about two hours to get to the scouting area last time. Navigating is tricky out here. There is a sort of compass built into the rover that gives you some sense of direction, but there is nothing to truly guide your way. No posts that let you know you’ve made it to the right spot. Only flat (link-goto: "desert.", "desert escape cont")

Oliver’s notes on the map are good, at least. You make it fairly far before the sun actually disappears and you have to put a lantern beside you to light the map. The rover’s lights are dim, but they’re better than nothing. Every moment is tinged with doubt. You are probably not going the right way. This was such a bad idea. $ezra will be worried. Oliver will be furious. Sabine will think you’re an idiot. You should go back and pretend this never happened. You are making things worse for yourself. Still, you move [[forward.]]

Something catches your eye in the dark – a dilapidated stone wall – and you realize you’ve gone a bit too far. You’ve been driving in the previous scouting area for a few minutes now and hadn’t recognized it. You stop the rover and sit quietly for a few moments, the lantern flickering beside you, and listen. You hear nothing. Not voices, or rumblings, or anything. It appears you will need to take a closer look. You hop out of the front seat of the rover, strap your bag to your back, and take your $weapon in one hand and lantern in the other. You will have to find something new. Something you had not seen before in the [[daylight.]]

You move slowly, lantern raised, weapon at the ready. You crouch to examine the foundations of previous buildings. You peer out into the far darkness. You call out. You scope the entire area. You dig. And still, nothing. You decide to switch tactics. You turn off your lantern, sit in the center of the crumbling foundation of a room, and remain silent. You’ve read your notes so many times, at this point, you’ve memorized them. Joshua Keaton heard voices nearby. The previous scouting team thought there was something underground. It is too hot in the desert to dress in black during the [[daytime.]]

You sit, cross-legged, in the dirt, hugging your arms around yourself. You consider, as you have been all night, returning home and pretending that you never took this leap. You have tried everything you can think of. You should wait out your probation, and pick this back up when you can actually scout again. And again, you push through thoughts of doubt. You hold back frustrated tears. You sit. You think you hear rustling. And then it stops. You convince yourself it was nothing. And then, it happens again. A type of rumbling, as if from underneath the [[earth.]]

(track: 'strum', 'stop')(track: 'cowboy', 'play')You move to stand, reach to grab your lantern from its place, and are yanked backwards. You lose the grip on your weapon. You can’t see. A hand is over your mouth. You try to lash out, try to break the grip, but you are overpowered. (if: $mind > $body)[You attempt to speak, try to bargain with your unknown attackers.](else:)[You curse and lash out, hands in fists, trying to strike a blow from your awkward position.] “Shut up,” you hear in your ear. A woman’s voice, you think. “Shut the fuck up or I’ll slit your throat.” That’s direct. You feel a sharp edge pressed just below your chin. You shut up. There seems to be a cloth around your eyes and nose, pulled tight, making it slightly difficult to breathe. (link: "Go limp.")[(set: $norisk to it +1)(goto: "limp")] (link: "Continue struggling.")[(set: $risk to it +1)(goto: "struggle")]

You let your body go limp as your captor keeps a tight grip on your arms. If you won’t be able to escape, you might as well make this kidnapping slightly harder for them. The body behind you presses forward. You trip over your own feet more than once, struggling to proceed. You hear other voices, whispering, maybe three or four others. Your hands are tied behind your back with cloth. You are lifted over someone’s back, someone large, your head hanging downward as your captor walks onward. Blood rushes to the top of your [[head.]]

You struggle against your captor’s hold, but they don’t budge. Your attempt to bite your attacker also proceeds in vain. Guess that won’t work a second time. The body behind you presses forward. You trip over your own feet more than once, struggling to proceed. You hear other voices, whispering, maybe three or four others. Your hands are tied behind your back with cloth. You are lifted over someone’s back, someone large, your head hanging downward as your captor walks onward. Blood rushes to the top of your [[head.]]

“Why don’t we just off $her?” you hear after some time. A man’s voice in a whisper. “Later. We’ll see what the others say.” This from your captor. You begin to descend and feel, through fear, victory. Underground. You descend for some time, so long that you think that maybe you aren’t actually going down. But you are. You know it. The sound of footsteps on metal echoes – a ladder – before you eventually land on solid [[ground.]]

You’ve stopped struggling. You’ve been overpowered, disarmed, and – besides – you’re not sure you want to leave. There is a rumbling sound, like the movement of stone, and then your body hits a hard surface. Luckily, the side of your body takes most of the impact and your head is spared a hit. It is quiet. You manage, slowly, to wriggle free of the ties around your wrists. You peel the blindfold back. It is still dark. They’ve taken your $weapon, bag, lantern and [[notes.]]

You are well aware you are in danger. You know that. But you can’t help the rush of success you feel. You knew it. You were right. Unfortunately, the only people around to witness your vindicating moment are trying to end your life. Tough break. The room they’ve put you in is sparse. There is a straw mattress on the floor and a small table made of stone. You run your fingers along the walls, the orange stone cool to the touch. The skylight bathes the room in quiet sunlight. It must be dawn. (link: "Look for something to use as a weapon.")[(set: $body to it +1)(goto: "look for weapon")] (link: "Study the room further.")[(set: $mind to it +1)(goto: "study room")]

You scour the room for a possible weapon. There is nothing sharp or heavy enough to cause any serious damage. You consider ripping strips from the straw mattress to strangle someone with but, upon further inspection, they’re much too brittle. You feel a pang of regret for leaving $ezra, Oliver, and Sabine behind. They are the only people you want to tell about (link-goto: "this.", "meet gage")

You should be worried about how long they’re going to keep you here. You should be fretting about the very real chance of imminent death. Instead, you can only marvel at this miracle. An entire group of people has survived underground. You have not been completely alone out here. You feel a pang of regret for leaving $ezra, Oliver, and Sabine behind. They are the only people you want to tell about (link-goto: "this.", "meet gage")

It has gotten significantly brighter, much later in the day, when you hear someone outside the door. The rock panel shifts to the side and there he is – the man whose hand you bit all those weeks ago. He is dressed in black, like when you last saw him, without a cloth over his face this time. He does not appear to be carrying his sickle. You’re immediately on the defensive. You have no weapons on you, but you think you could probably kick this guy around enough to get past him. Maybe. He responds quickly to your crouched position, holding his hands up in front of him in a sign of surrender. You do not unclench your [[fists.]]

“Long time no see,” is all he says. He is grinning. Without the black cloth mask on, you can see the entirety of his face. You’d forgotten how bright his eyes are. You can only see one green eye, the other hidden by a curtain of hair. He has light scarring on his sharp cheeks and dimpled chin that you hadn’t noticed before. You say nothing, still prepared to fight if need be. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he promises. “I’m here as your escort.” You snort, [[disbelieving.]]

He seems out of breath and there is a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead and scalp. “Did you run here?” you ask. He seems pleased that you’ve decided to speak with him. “Yes. They told me you were here a few hours ago. Sorry it took so long. I had to do some convincing that you were harmless,” he explains. You’re not sure why he’s apologizing. Minutes ago you expected to die here. It’s still a possibility. “You think I’m harmless?” you smirk. Against all your better instincts, you begin to relax in his presence. “Relatively. And I say that as a man with a wound on his hand that is still not completely [[healed.”]]

“Last time I saw you, you tried to kill me.” He grimaces. “It’s a little more complicated than that, $name,” he says. His hands have been up this entire time, palms facing you. One of them is bandaged. “Oh, is it?” “I know how that sounds,” he says. “Let me answer your questions. I know you’re dying to get a look at this place. I can show you around.” He’s right. You’re burning up with curiosity. You still don’t trust [[him.]]

“Suddenly, I’m going from hostage to guest?” “I’ll explain everything. Unfortunately, if you want answers, you’ll have to refrain from hitting me.” That smirk. You remember that smirk. “How does everyone know my name, Gage?” He grins and moves out of his defensive position, as do you, slowly. “We’ll get to that. I promise.” You don’t appear to have any other choice. You could rot in this room. You could also trust Gage, be mistaken, and end up rotting in this [[room.]]

(track: 'cowboy', 'stop')(track: 'strum', 'play')“Can I have my notes back?” “Ah, yes. Of course. They’re with Eva. She’s a sort of leader around here.” You can’t help it – you begin to cave at the tiniest snippet of new information. “Sort of?” He looks smug. Like he has you now. He pretty much does. You feel like prey. “We don’t have official leadership, really. It rotates. Eva just happens to have been in a particularly decisive position for the longest time,” he explains. “She wants to meet you.” “She wants to meet me?” “Everyone wants to meet you, $name. I just happened to be lucky enough to be allowed to greet you first.” He [[winks.]]

You appear to have fallen through the looking glass. Or woken up from a dream. Or lost a vital memory. You struggle to focus on any one piece of information and classify it as the predominant threat. You are still technically a prisoner. People here seem to know you somehow. You have no option but to rely on Gage’s perceived honesty. This is what you wanted, though, isn’t it? An opportunity to know them. “Okay. Alright. Fine. I have a lot of questions, though.” You cross your arms over your chest. “I would expect nothing [[less.”]]

Gage motions for you to exit the room first. You walk slowly past him into the hallway. You try to take it all in at once. It was impossible to get a real feel of this place while struggling against aggressors, but now you take the time to gawk. It's beautiful. The hallways and rooms are carved from bright orange and red stone. The ceilings are high, many feet above your head, and slope into archways. Skylights are splayed out evenly above you, casting bright light onto your skin. You squint. You reach your hands out to touch both walls, just within your wingspan, and run your fingers along the stone. The architectural effort this must have required is astounding. You have to consciously close your mouth and not let your jaw go [[slack.]]

“As fun as it is to watch you right now, and it is,” Gage chuckles from behind you. “This is really just a hallway of smaller rooms. Want to see the larger communal areas?” “Yes,” you breathe. Gage moves past you, appearing to make an effort not to touch you, even though you are in a dramatically enclosed space. You follow where he goes. “We haven’t used these rooms in many years. They were filled, once, but not anymore,” he says. “Are your numbers dwindling?” You feel a pang of sadness. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to wait to explain that one as well.” He sounds [[sad.]]

You want to continue to pry, but you step into the next room and lose words. The hallway opens up into a massive cavern of sorts. There is a large crowd of people milling about. Some are dressed in all black, like Gage, and some are not. A large skylight sits at the top of the cavern, illuminating the entire scene. It is miraculous. Everything is bathed in an orange tint, the light reflecting off the stone. There are people carrying food, plants, children, clothing, metal, woven baskets, blankets, paper, and drinks. The chatter is loud; you can’t imagine how you hadn’t heard it from the hallway. There must be seventy or eighty people just in this enormous room. Many of them stare at you openly, but most avoid your gaze when you look back at them. You notice that they look young, for the most part. You see children, teenagers, young adults and parents; but, few older [[people.]]

You really need your notes right now. You want to be writing all of this down, sketching it, ensuring that you remember every detail of this place. Gage walks beside you as you weave through the crowd, saying nothing, but he appears smug for some reason. You’re sure your reverence must be obvious. “The lights...how can you not notice the skylights from above on the desert floor?” you ask, chin lifted up so you can attempt to fully inspect the large windows at the top of the cavern. You are forced to look away when the light begins to hurt and you start to see shapes in front of your vision. “The lights? That’s what you want to know about first?” Gage asks, shaking his head so that his hair once again falls in front of his eyes. (link: "Be rude.")[(set: $serious to it +1)(goto: "rude")] (link: "Pout.")[(set: $playful to it +1)(goto: "pout")]

“Shut up,” you mutter. Gage laughs. “You know, you’re not a very agreeable captive,” he teases. “I thought I was a guest.” “Fair enough.” He seems very amused by you. “The light is filtered in like a funnel, through a very small opening at the top,” Gage explains. “The hole gets wider as it gets deeper. From above, they look like very small divots. They’d be almost impossible to notice if you weren’t looking for (link-goto: "them.”", "explore")

You pout at him, disappointed. “Alright, Jesus, no puppy dog eyes on my tour please,” he says, hands up in surrender. “Lights it is.” “The light is filtered in like a funnel, through a very small opening at the top,” Gage explains. “The hole gets wider as it gets deeper. From above, they look like very small divots. They’d be almost impossible to notice if you weren’t looking for (link-goto: "them.”", "explore")

“How does this place not...collapse down on you?” you prod. “It’s a series of natural caves. We didn’t build them, just expanded in some places. Carefully expanded,” he clarifies. “What about food and water?” “There’s a greenhouse where we grow most of our food down one of these halls to your left,” he says, pointing it out. “And we have a stream for our water.” “An underground stream?” you gape. “Can we see that?” “Of course. In due time.” He is [[grinning.]]

You really need your notes now. The vastness of this place, the beauty of it, is staggering. A woman brushes past you, clipping your shoulder, muttering something you can’t hear under her breath. “That’s not very nice, Magda,” Gage snorts. “Piss off, Gage,” the woman – Magda – calls back, not looking behind her. (if: $serious > $playful)[“What was that about?” you ask. “Ah, Magda is just upset I’m showing you around. She’s not a fan of you,” he answers.](else:) [“You seem popular,” you say. Gage raises an eyebrow at you. “I’ll have you know I am well-liked around here,” he says, feigning insult. “You’re the one she’s really peeved at.”] “Me? What did I [[do?”]]

Gage ignores you, raising his bandaged hand to flag someone down. It’s the olive-skinned woman who attacked you. Leah. Perfect. She swaggers slowly up to you and Gage, looking as happy as you expect her to, that being not at all. She is dressed similarly to when you last saw her – all in black, long sleeves, pants to the ankle, and black boots. Her hair is loose now, long and in her face. “I didn’t know you were going to show $her around,” Leah says as she approaches, shooting a look at [[Gage.]]

“I wasn’t going to just leave $her in one of those rooms down the East Hallway,” he replies. “Eva gave me the reins on this...situation.” “She does that far too often for my comfort,” Leah snorts. She crosses her arms over her chest, looks you up and down, but says nothing. You don’t mind as you are doing the same. “$name, this is Leah,” Gage introduces. “I remember,” you say. “Sorry about, you know, the confrontation.” Leah only shrugs. You might be wrong, but you feel a certain respect from her. “Sorry about trying to kill you,” she replies. “No worries.” “Hold on,” Gage scoffs. “You’re cool with Leah trying to kill you but not [[me?”]]

“You’re the head of the team, aren’t you? Seems like Leah was following your lead,” you report, matter-of-fact. “I never said I was the head of the team,” says Gage. “He is, though. For some reason,” Leah snorts. “It’s obvious,” you state. Gage looks at you, briefly stunned. His head tilts to the side slightly. His stare makes you feel studied, seen, and slightly [[vulnerable.]]

You want to ask Gage and Leah a bevy of questions – about their governing body, their team roles, their weapons, their medicine, their sustenance, their families, their history, their housing, and their place here. Instead, through tired eyes and ears, you listen to them exchange information about some upcoming ‘exploration.’ You watch them bicker a bit, argue, come to an agreement, and move on. You try to pick up as much information as you can, but you feel a bit like you’re underwater. You haven’t slept since yesterday morning. Gage notices you [[drooping.]]

“$name,” he says and you snap your eyes open. “You look like you could use some sleep. You want to rest in my room? Leah’s room maybe? The room you were in before isn’t very comfortable.” “I didn’t offer,” Leah huffs. “My room or Leah’s room, $name?” [[Leah’s room.]] [[Gage’s room.]]

“Leah, please?” you ask. She groans, but nods. She leads you back across the cavern and – tired as you are – the noise and the light and the excitement is beginning to feel overwhelming. Having seen Magda’s reaction now, the stares from earlier are beginning to look like glares. You follow Leah down a hallway, similar to the one you were carried down earlier in the day. You make so many turns down corridors that you’re certain you wouldn’t be able to find your way out (link-goto: "alone.", "leah room")

“Your room is fine, Gage,” you say. “Let’s go then.” He leads you back across the cavern and – tired as you are – the noise and the light and the excitement is beginning to feel overwhelming. Having seen Magda’s reaction now, the stares from earlier are beginning to look like glares. You follow Gage down a hallway, similar to the one you were carried down earlier in the day. You make so many turns down corridors that you’re certain you wouldn’t be able to find your way out alone. That’s all the more trust you have to put in someone who tried to murder (link-goto: "you.", "gage room")

Leah’s room is very similar to the one you were thrown into today, but a little less sparse. All you can focus on is the bed. Leah is saying something, but you are barely listening. You need to sleep. It takes you seconds to fall asleep once your head is on the pillow. Your need to quell your exhaustion completely overrides your self-preservation instincts. Half awake and half in a dream state, your thoughts drift to – (link-goto: "$ezra.", "ezra dream") [[Oliver.]] [[Sabine.]] (link-goto: "Gage.", "gage dream")

You expect to be led to a large meeting room or hall of some sort to await the leadership. Instead, Gage brings you to the greenhouse. It is magnificent. The ceiling is completely made of glass. It is so bright you have to squint a little bit, and humid enough that you begin to sweat. Leaves, potted plants, flowers, and small trees bloom while people care for them. You haven’t seen flowers like this since you were a child. The Community plants what is only for use – chamomile for tea, aloe for healing – but nothing like this. You want to cry, but you don’t want Gage to see. Regardless, he seems pleased at your [[awe.]]

“I just mean…” you start, turning towards him. He is leaning backwards onto what looks like a desk, arms crossed in front of him, an expression that belies no worry or care. “You have this whole dashing adventurer thing going on.” “Do I?” He looks like a cat that’s just caught a mouse. You’re regretting this conversation already. “Don’t look so smug about it.” “And the dashing adventurer thing doesn’t include reading?” He raises an eyebrow. “Not typically, no.” You lift one of the books from the shelf, flipping through it aimlessly, trying to distract yourself from the red color that betrays your [[cheeks.]]

“And what do you like to read?” he asks, still watching you touch and dismantle nearly everything you can get your hands on. His eyes follow you as you pace up and down the length of the room. “Why are you interested in what I like to read?” You sidestep the question. “Why are you being hospitable to me at all?” He pushes himself off of the desk with one hand, his bandaged other hand underlining your point. “I am interested in what you like to read because I’m interested in you,” he says simply. “I am being hospitable to you for the same reason.” “Let’s hope you don’t lose your interest,” you mutter. “I have a feeling your hospitality is shielding me from a fair bit of aggression around here.” “I wouldn’t worry about that.” He [[chuckles.]]

His energy is both unsettling and attractive. Maybe it’s unsettling because you’re attracted to him. You are flirting with a man who tried to kill you, away from your Community, underneath the desert. He seems so at ease, almost laid-back, while you are having likely the most impactful day of your life. “You really don’t think I’m a threat?” you ask, turning on your heel to face him. “Combatively? No,” Gage answers, tucking his long hair behind his ears. You glimpse the faded scars on his face again. “You’re disarmed and somehow I doubt you’d attempt to escape without your notes.” He’s correct on that [[point.]]

“If you’ll remember, Gage, I weaponized my teeth when we last met.” “I do remember, $name, and I will likely never forget.” He waves his bandaged hand sadly. “I’ve learned your tricks now, though. Next time you want to bite me, you’ll have to ask.” “Noted,” you reply. You smile. It's brief, but genuine. This appears to divert him. You yawn, a hand covering your mouth. Gage [[notices.]]

“Okay, yes,” he says, clapping his hands together once. “Please feel free to use my bed to nap. The couch is also open if you’re more comfortable there, but I doubt it.” He begins to back out of the room, eyes still on your movements as you run a hand across the top bed sheet and perch at the end of the bed. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Eva would really like to meet you soon,” he says. You nod, not really hearing a word he is saying over the overwhelming pull of the bed. He chuckles, pushes closed a sliding stone slab over the doorway, and [[leaves.]]

It takes you seconds to fall asleep once your head is on the pillow. Your need to quell your exhaustion completely overrides your self-preservation instincts. Half awake and half in a dream state, your thoughts drift to – (link-goto: "$ezra.", "ezra dream") [[Oliver.]] [[Sabine.]] (link-goto: "Gage.", "gage dream")

After ogling for an appropriate amount of time, Gage motions you over. You follow, but you find it difficult to tear your gaze away from all the life inside this small room. At the other end of the greenhouse, tending to what appears to be a ficus tree, is a woman with brown skin and shoulder-length black hair, streaked with grey. She grins when Gage approaches, and her wrinkles smile with her. “Gage,” she says sweetly. Her voice has a gravelly tone to it, a deepness that is pleasant to the ear. She places a hand on his elbow. He beams (link-goto: "back.", "eva meet")

“$name,” he says, facing you. “This is Eva Diaz.” She focuses her stare on you, still smiling. You want to like her. You want to lean into her. Still, you are on your guard. You lean towards Gage a bit – a habit you’ve acquired today that you don’t necessarily like. “The famous $name. I can’t believe I’m meeting you in the flesh.” She removes a pair of gloves from her hand, placing them in her back pocket. You flinch unintentionally at the (link-goto: "movement.", "eva meet cont")

“I was wondering about that, actually. Gage hasn’t been particularly forthcoming about the knowledge that everyone seems to have about me here.” Eva laughs, loudly, while Gage scratches the back of his neck. “No, he wouldn’t be, would he?” she says, still chuckling. “Well, $name, to do that we will have to explain a lot more about our shared past. About what your Community has done to [[ours.”]]

<big>Chapter IV: [[Return]]</big>

You think of Oliver. You are going to be in so much trouble. If Gage or any of these people don’t kill you first, Oliver will. Your mind has been drifting to Oliver a lot lately. You try to reign it in. You try to be realistic about his feelings towards you, if there are any. It is difficult to set expectations. He is a mystery to you. The man is obsessed with duty, with his Lead Scout responsibility, and his high standards. He is so blind to anything outside the sphere of obligation. He incenses and vexes you. You feel [[insane.]]

Your thoughts drift to Sabine. This is a frequent occurrence as of late. Being around Sabine is a balancing act you know you are so far from perfecting. So much of who Sabine is daunts you. She is a woman with power who knows how to use it. Everything she does feels calculated. You doubt she makes any move without purpose. She’s imposing, intelligent and immovable. Sometimes, though, you catch a glimpse of the woman behind the scenes. You perceive a certain nervousness and anxiety. You can imagine all the failures it took to put her where she is. You see carefully concealed [[weaknesses.]]

Your mind is filled with $ezra. You replay $him falling to $his knees, gasping for breath, leaning $his full body weight on you. You know $he will be devastated when $he finds you gone. God, you hadn’t even left a note. That’s cruel. Guilt sits in the pit of your stomach, weighing you down. You have never lied to $ezra before about anything like this – anything that matters. You consider the sin of a lie by omission. Though you’ve been unwilling to outright lie to $ezra, you are certainly guilty of omitting hard [[truths.]]

You don’t know quite what to make of Gage. You are, truthfully, worried that he seems to have caught your eye. You can vividly remember a sickle on the cusp of your throat and a strong arm around your middle. You remember biting down as hard as you can, determined to leave a long-lasting wound. You know that there is no real safety here. Still, there is something about his enjoyment of your fascination of this new place. He appears, if nothing else, amused at your wonderment. He seems eager to show you new things. He appears to have a certain status in this group of people. He’s a leader, but clearly a well-liked one. There is a soft strength to him – a magnetism that you can’t fully blame on your new [[surroundings.]]

You haven’t told $ezra you love $him in months and vice versa. You used to say it all the time. You do love each other, after all. You’d been tossing the phrase back and forth since you were kids. It suddenly felt different to say out loud. This new intimacy with $him has shifted everything you know and trust for stability. You cannot resist flying closer to the flame, even though you’re sure it will hurt you one day. When “I love you” spilled from $his lips for the last time, in the cold season, you answered “I love you, too” but it felt like too much. You both stared at each other, $him wistful and you afraid. There have been so many instances that a profession of love has come bubbling up, and it is only recently that it has not felt appropriate to release (link-goto: "it.", "ezra dream cont")

When $he would come to your place in the early morning, two teas in hand, already smiling. When $he intuits your mood before you’ve even processed what you’re feeling. When $he brushes $his thumb over the apple of your cheek. When you almost lost $him to the wretched desert sun. These are all, you know, lies by omission. What is one more lie to the $man who has promised to remain by your side your entire life? Especially if it keeps $him (link-goto: "there.", "gage int")

In what feels like minutes, Gage’s voice is pulling you out of your troubled sleep. The light is coming in slightly dimmer through the skylight now. “Rise and shine,” he greets. “Time to get your questions [[answered.”]]

And yet, you need to know if he has ever been preoccupied with thoughts of you. You want to know why he sucks in a breath when you brush by. You want to celebrate that he believes you to be a competent scout, a compliment of the highest order. Even with all this in front of you, you cannot assume. You have to hear it from him, someday, any day. What you unequivocally have to know, and have been ruminating about for days, is why he has been acting the way he has been acting towards you in the past few weeks. The explanation that you accepted was that probation would be a death sentence to Oliver. He genuinely understands how upset you’ve been. He can imagine that loss and the consequences that (link-goto: "follow.", "weeks.")

Yet, it doesn’t quite explain the continuous, somewhat uncomfortable, check-ins. You’ve never known Oliver to slow down for anyone and yet, only a week ago, he would interrupt scout planning, ill at ease, to ask – “Are you okay? How are you?” It doesn't explain why he has been giving in more, letting disagreements settle when he would normally argue with you for hours. It doesn’t explain Lee, teasing you mercilessly, dropping hints and innuendos at every opportunity. It doesn’t explain how sometimes, when he looks at you, he seems to tighten his jaw involuntarily. It doesn’t explain the looks Oliver would give you while smoking, cigarette in mouth, eyes trained on your every slight movement. And it certainly does not explain the feeling that overtook the entirety of your body in his kitchen, when he moved closer, and he focused on you. It does not explain the overwhelming feeling that you’ve started something with him. It does not explain why you are (link-goto: "terrified.", "gage int")

You think Sabine has been studying you, observing as she does most members of the Community, but with a certain interest. She asks frequent questions, not only about scouting, but about you. She intensely listens like a woman who has not been living with the same small group of people her entire life. Pre-scouting incident, days after your probation was extended, Sabine had asked to borrow your notes for review. You’d parted with them, hesitantly, after she had preemptively addressed your worries about losing or damaging them. It was unnerving how well she knew you already. “Sabine,” you’d called out, panicked, before she left. “There might be notes on you in there. Nothing bad, I swear. I can’t control my impulse to study new…” You pause. [[“Threats.”]]

She’d actually blushed then. It was rare to see her flustered, though by now you’ve seen it a few times. She seemed to have disgust for anyone with any sort of leverage over her, but here she was letting you have this. It felt like she was making all sorts of exceptions for you. “It’s alright,” she’d said. “It’s embarrassing but I definitely have scribblings about you somewhere in my old Council meeting notes. Things you’d said that I agreed or disagreed with. I can’t control my need to study, either. And what a subject you (link-goto: "are.”", "gage int")

Elise would wag her finger if she could see you now. She would scold you for being distracted by a pretty face. Even when the man with the pretty face is constantly teasing and testing you. Even if that man holds all the answers you want in the palm of his hand. Even if you feel unexplainably protected with him. He has a way about him that is clouding your judgement, and you can’t even bring yourself to (link-goto: "care.", "gage int")

Gage’s room is very similar to the one you were thrown into today, but with more things. The large bed is raised off the ground, there are woven rugs, wooden chairs, signs of living. You like it. You explore slowly, running your hands along the stone. A bookshelf has been carved into the wall, filled to the brim with books that are mostly falling apart. Gage watches you with levity, as he has all day. “I didn’t take you for a reader,” you say, fingering the cover of one of the larger books on the shelf. “I’m hurt,” he responds, dramatic hand over heart. (link: "Flirt with him.")[(goto: "heart.")] (link: "Don't.")[(goto: "notices.")]

<big>Chapter V: Recovery</big> Coming soon! Thank you for playing! Please feel free to check out my (link-repeat: "Tumblr")[(gotoURL: "https://anya-dev.tumblr.com/")] or (link-repeat: "Ko-fi")[(gotoURL: "https://ko-fi.com/anyawrites")] for more Scout content! - Anya (link-repeat: "RESTART")[(confirm: "Are you sure?")(reload:)]

(track: 'strum', 'stop')(track: 'cowboy', 'play')You know you should be hanging on Eva’s every word, but the rising feeling of dread at the bottom of your throat is distracting. It threatens to choke you. You focus on your breathing, as $ezra sometimes tells you to do when you’re stressed. Your flight response has been triggered, your feet wanting to move you elsewhere, anywhere. For the first time, you feel claustrophobic under the ground. Trapped like an animal. “Let’s sit,” Eva says, reaching a hand out to guide you to a stone bench nearby. [[Tense up.]] [[Follow her lead.]]

Your body tenses involuntarily, shoulders hunched and jaw tight. You don’t like this. You don’t know these people. They have all the leverage, and you have none. Eva drops her guiding hand after a moment. She steps back, a bit, and gives you space before perching on the bench. Her clear sympathy feels smothering. Her respect for you makes you [[nervous.]]

You follow Eva and sit beside her, facing a particularly beautiful part of the garden. It’s almost gorgeous enough to distract you. Still, your nerves are starting to get the better of you. You know, in your entire body, that you are about to hear something you don’t want (link: "to.")[(goto: "nervous.")]

You spare a glance at Gage. His brow is furrowed, his lips tight. He looks concerned. For what, you’re not sure. You dislike that you look to Gage for stability in this moment. You are trying to read him, to figure out if you are walking into danger. You have to remind yourself that it’s entirely possible he is the danger. “I was not the first to find this place,” Eva begins. “Not by a long shot. Gage was here long before me." She looks at Gage like Elise looks at you. You feel like you might be [[sick.]]

“Still, this group was struggling when I arrived. The food wasn’t growing well under the ground. We hadn’t quite figured it out yet. Crop returns were low. We were all so thin and fatigued. I remember being able to count my ribs. The water was clean, though. That was about all we had.” You haven’t looked her in the eye this entire time. Her hands, folded in her lap, are rough and calloused. Not unlike yours. “Then, people began to get sick. Our younger children first.” Gage lets out a swift breath of air. You look up, catching his eye. He suddenly shows none of the careless ease you’ve come to expect from him. [[Smile.]] [[Look away.]]

You give him a hesitant smile. His resulting reaction is inscrutable. “Most newborns weren’t surviving even a year. They would show no signs of illness for their initial few months and then get a fever that refused to break. Their feet and ankles were swelling. They would scream. All the time, all through the night. New parents would collapse from the exhaustion of caring for their sick children. None of us were getting much sleep,” she continues. There was a detached timbre to her voice – a rehearsed tone that made you think she had told this story many times over the (link: "years.")[(goto: "eva explain")]

“Most newborns weren’t surviving even a year. They would show no signs of illness for their initial few months and then get a fever that refused to break. Their feet and ankles were swelling. They would scream. All the time, all through the night. New parents would collapse from the exhaustion of caring for their sick children. None of us were getting much sleep,” she continues. There was a detached timbre to her voice – a rehearsed tone that made you think she had told this story many times over the (link: "years.")[(goto: "eva explain")]

“When we thought it could not get worse, it began to spread to our elderly. They would become confused at first. And then, the extreme fatigue would set in. They became so tired that they couldn’t stand. They were dehydrated but would not drink.” Her tone has become frustrated. “We were burying so many of us. We don't bury our dead under the ground here, in fear of infecting our water supply. The strongest among us would carry the bodies to the surface, far away, and bury them in unmarked graves.” “We tried to keep track of the dead," Gage says, apology seeping into his voice. “But it became too difficult. There were too many of them.” “No one could figure out what it was or how it was spreading. Paranoia was high, but nothing we were trying was working,” Eva scoffs. (link: "“I’m sorry.”")[(set: $collectivism to it +1)(goto: "sorry eva")] (link: "“And then?”") [(set: $individualism to it +1)(goto: "then eva")] [[Remain silent.]]

“Gage convinced a large enough group to start searching for resources on the surface. There were strong reactions to the idea at first,” she admits, winking at Gage. “We were afraid. Something about being underground, even when we were dropping like flies, felt safe. There’s a security to hiding, even in the face of death.” You see Gage shake his head in your peripheral vision. He’s become slightly more agitated the longer this story goes on. Fidgeting and shifting his weight from one foot to the [[other.]]

“I’m sorry,” you say. It sounds flat, even to you. What is one outsider’s apology to this kind of pain? Eva, though, seems to lighten a bit. “Gage convinced a large enough group to start searching for resources on the surface. There were strong reactions to the idea at first,” she admits, winking at Gage. “We were afraid. Something about being underground, even when we were dropping like flies, felt safe. There’s a security to hiding, even in the face of death.” You see Gage shake his head in your peripheral vision. He’s become slightly more agitated the longer this story goes on. Fidgeting and shifting his weight from one foot to the [[other.]]

“And then?” you ask, unable or unwilling to stop yourself. If only you had your notebook. “Gage convinced a large enough group to start searching for resources on the surface. There were strong reactions to the idea at first,” she admits, winking at Gage. “We were afraid. Something about being underground, even when we were dropping like flies, felt safe. There’s a security to hiding, even in the face of death.” You see Gage shake his head in your peripheral vision. He’s become slightly more agitated the longer this story goes on. Fidgeting and shifting his weight from one foot to the [[other.]]

“It was slow progress, at first. We really had no idea what we were doing. Gage kept spirits up, though. He was younger than most other leaders, but he was determined.” Another look shared between them. You feel there may be some details being left out. “We found the people you call the Community,” she says, giving a sad smile. “While exploring the surface, a group noticed your tents in the distance. We were...overjoyed. The possibility of change, of resources, of more people. It was a hope unlike any I’ve felt since then.” You know the feeling. “We were too forthcoming, maybe, with information of the sickness of our people,” she sighs. “I think a lot about what might have been different, had we held our cards a bit closer to our chests.” You are grinding your teeth now, unaware but fearing the next twist in this [[story.]]

“We told your Council our woes. Most of our children were dead, and our elderly. Our young adults were beginning to fall ill. We had no plan, no negotiation – only pleas for assistance.” Gage has begun pacing at this point. He looks like he’s going to speak up, but lets Eva continue. “They were frighteningly efficient in deciding they would not assist us, and then deciding they would have to forcefully remove us. They were cold. Patronizing. Emotional appeals did nothing. Logical appeals were ignored. Your Council further injured many of the strongest people we had left in our group at the time. They killed none of us directly, but the injuries they inflicted nearly did." You don’t want to hear this. You really, really do not want to hear (link: "this.")[(goto: "eva story")]

“They said they couldn’t take the risk. That we were invaders in a community that had just gotten on its feet. Which was...true, I suppose, if you look at it that way.” She shrugs. “They were worried the sickness would spread and kill their own. Your own.” You feel torn between wanting to accept that explanation and being thoroughly disgusted by the actions of those you still revere. Your mouth is dry. “Still, we continued to beg on our knees. We told them the names of our dead children. We asked for anything.” Her voice is pleading, even now. “They gave us your notes, $name. Threw them at Gage’s feet and kicked him while he retrieved them.” You look at Gage, eyes wide. “My (if: $position is "Historian")[historical](if: $position is "Navigator")[geographical](if: $position is "Healer")[medical](if: $position is "Scientist")[scientific] notes?” you ask, incredulous. [[“Mine?”]]

“Signed by you at the bottom. All of them,” Gage says. “I didn’t start taking notes until recently. Within the past few years,” you stutter. “The Council keeps so little of my old notes. Only the ones they need to share with others.” This was recent. Your Council had, as you begged for information, kicked out a group of people begging for help. Threatened and committed violence towards those mourning their children. How had this happened without the notice of anyone else? “They told us if we ever returned, they would murder the lot of us. They threatened to come after us, to follow us home,” Eva continues, bulldozing through your train of thought. You can’t focus. You can’t absorb any more [[information.]]

“Not exactly in those words,” she admits. “But we got the message. We left and never returned. We were barely surviving on our own, let alone with enemies after us. Our external searching mostly ended after that. We would only go out at night and not stray far, and only if we absolutely had to. We were scared of what your Community would do.” You feel like you’re hearing a story about someone else, unrelated to your or your friends or your upbringing. You feel disgusted with yourself, though you are only learning of this now. “Gage is the leader of a small group of mostly young adults that defends our home and ensures our safety. It’s not often that we send those groups out anymore. It’s been many years but–” “You stumbled on a rare morning excursion,” Gage interjects. [[Leader?]] [[Defends?]]

“A leader?” you ask, still cataloguing information in your mind. “Gage is depended upon for our survival, heavily and often,” Eva elaborates. “He is known by everyone, trusted by most. He leads a group of his own – Leah and Marcus – but all surface excursions are under his purview.” Your initial instinct that day was right. To have this information confirmed...it makes you even more wary of Gage. He is well-connected here. What is his [[angle?]]

“Defends? Are you still defending yourselves?” you ask, a tinge of surprise seeping into your tone. “We can hear you, above us, sometimes. At least, we think it’s people from the Community,” she admits. “The heartbreaking truth is that we don’t know if it is always your people. What if we’ve missed an opportunity to know others? What if we’ve let them pass us by?” You can (link: "relate.")[(goto: "angle?")]

“And what about now? The sickness?” you ask tentatively. “I mean...I’ve seen young children here. And elders.” Eva smiles faintly. “I know this is going to sound strange,” she starts. “It is strange and it isn’t true,” Gage mumbles, but he still manages to sound fond, toeing the edge of [[respect.]]

“There was a storm,” Eva continues, bypassing Gage’s comment. “An enormous one, for days. Everything shook – the walls, the glass windows on the ceiling, the ground. We hid deeper below the earth, near the water caverns, but we could still hear it. It felt powerful.” You remember this, you think. Your regular scout was cancelled. $ezra had run through the rain all the way to your shack, soaking wet but still laughing, to confirm there would be no scouting that day. You'd spent the entire day together, inside, intermittently napping and reading. “After that, people stopped getting sick. Babies lived past their infancy, our elderly passed in their sleep. We have rare instances of sickness, but it is not even close to how bad it used to be. It seems we are safe, mostly, from that threat.” [[Ask Eva for more details.]] [[Ask Gage his opinion.]]

“Did the remaining sickness take the weakest, still? Elderly with other health problems, maybe?” you ask. “It’s possible you built up an immunity.” “Gage is a proponent of the immunity theory as well.” You look to Gage and nod. He seems pleased. Eva does not seem particularly offended that neither of you share her [[view.]]

“What do you think?” you ask, turning your body slightly towards Gage. He looks surprised, but pleased, you think. “I think we built up an immunity over time,” he replies. “The storm was an, albeit weird, coincidence.” You nod. Eva does not seem particularly offended that neither of you share her [[view.]]

“Your notes were a great assistance, $name,” Eva says, and you notice a fond note to her voice – about you. You realize, to your dismay, that you already believe them. About everything. You have taken everything they’ve said at face value, and you believe their grief. It will be difficult to get back to a place of suspicion, after this. You want to help them. “That’s how everyone knows me, then?” you ask. “My name on the notes.” “Yes,” Eva says. (if: $position is "Historian")[“The written history of your Community was very helpful to us. We were able to learn and adapt your ways of farming and harvesting to our environment. You can barely tell what’s written on those notes anymore, they’ve been passed around so much.”](if: $position is "Healer")[“Your medical notes were very helpful to us, as you can imagine. We lost our only two people with medical training early on. We would pass your notes around to each other, memorize them, and pass them onto the next person who could help the sick.” “I’m sorry, I’m not entirely trained either. It’s mostly first aid in those notes,” you apologize. “Helpful, nonetheless.” She smiles.](if: $position is "Navigator")[“Your geographical notes were very helpful to us. We found a few sites, mostly scavenged by your people, but some with resources left behind. Gage would bring groups to nearby sites in the middle of the night, trusting your notes to be accurate. We needed anything we could find.”](if: $position is "Scientist")[“Your scientific notes were very helpful to us. We were able to learn from your food growing techniques – to time crops with the weather and season. It was faster than learning those lessons ourselves. You can barely tell what’s written on those notes anymore, they’ve been passed around so much.”] “Not everyone seems pleased with me being here,” you say, remembering [[Magda.]]

Eva and Gage laugh, openly, and you try to squash the warm feeling in your chest. You don’t know these people. Not really. “You’ll have to forgive some of that, I imagine,” Eva says. “It’s hard to forget the actions from your community. They’re still angry about what happened, and scared of the threats of future violence. It rings as betrayal to some of the people here.” To you, too. “They will have a hard time trusting your intentions,” she continues. The look she gives you feels weighted. “And you? Trust my intentions?” you ask. You aren’t sure what your intentions are (link: "anymore.")[(goto: "trust")]

“Gage trusts that you’re here for the right reasons. That you’ve come with burning curiosity, and not malice,” she sighs. “That’s good enough for me, I suppose.” You look to Gage, mildly surprised, who smiles. He’s seen through you, you realize. He knows, already, more about you than you know about him. It’s not a comforting thought. “And I will need to trust you, $name, to ask you what I’m about to ask,” Eva (link: "says.")[(goto: "anxiety")]

Your vision tunnels, slightly, though your senses seem overwhelmed. You can smell the plant life around you, the soil, the dampness of the room. You want to run, but to where? You are underground, trapped, in this place and this moment. You feel that familiar dread, again, that things are about to change and there will be nothing you can do to stop it. The train has already switched its track and you are moving, inevitably, in a completely different direction. It has already been done, even before Eva has asked (link: "you.")[(goto: "eva ask")]

“Will you go back to your community and advocate for us?” she asks. “We are not sick anymore, on the whole, but we aren’t exactly...thriving. Our food stocks are low and our water is growing dirtier than it once was. I think about our future and I’m scared our children will struggle even more than we did. We’re growing too fast.” It’s strange to hear your own logic mirrored in someone else. For years this woman has lived, underground, thinking in parallel to you. Seeking something that you were also seeking. “You want to ask for help from a group that attempted to murder you?” you ask, a bit shocked. “Isn’t that what you’re doing here, $name?” she snorts. [[It was.]]

“With you on our side, I think we have a better chance. We have an opportunity to learn and create a better future for our children. I can’t let something like that go,” she says, and you sense a desperation in her. “We need someone on our side. We need you.” The pressure is almost blinding. You don’t want this responsibility. “I think we are better together,” Eva continues. “I think we can improve our lot.” You want to clasp a hand over her mouth and not hear this anymore. You want her to swallow what she’s just asked of you, to shove those words back down her throat. (link: "Ask for more time to think.")[(set: $collectivism to it +1)(goto: "ask for time")] (link: "Demand more time.") [(set: $individualism to it +1)(goto: "demand time")]

“Can I take some time to think about this?” you ask quietly. Eva physically leans away from you, as if trying to give you more space. “Of course,” she says, matching your timid volume. “Of course, $name.” Gage moves closer to your side, almost in front of you. It’s a small gesture, but you feel slightly comforted with him nearer, sensing your stress. You also feel, not for the first time, like a rabbit seeking the protection of a [[hawk.]]

“I need more time,” you say firmly, hands tightly intertwined in your lap. “To consider.” “Yes, of course,” Eva says, brow furrowed. “Please do consider it.” Gage moves closer to your side, almost in front of you. It’s a small gesture, but you feel slightly comforted with him nearer, sensing your stress. You also feel, not for the first time, like a rabbit seeking the protection of a [[hawk.]]

(track: 'cowboy', 'stop')(track: 'strum', 'play')“Have you eaten?” Eva asks. “Oh...no, I haven’t.” Eva glares playfully at Gage. The moment is softened, a bit, and your peripheral vision returns to you. You are moored by Eva’s jesting tone. “Gage, honestly, what hospitality!” she laughs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, hands in front of him. “It’s been a long day.” “For $her, too,” Eva points out. “Yes, you’re right,” he says, looking down at you. “Let’s go, $name. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking [[straight.”]]

You walk back through the main cavern, still bustling with people. You notice, now, how few children there are. Gage’s confidence and ease with you, already, is unnerving. His body language is relaxed as he leans closer to speak to you, fingers fidgeting with the dull rings on his left hand. In the absence of your questioning, Gage fills the silence with more details about his underground home. Details you were begging for this morning you barely hear now. Your focus has been shaken. “Leah and I have known each other for years. I’ve never had a sister, but she feels like one,” Gage is saying. “You and your team seem close.” “Oh, shit,” you [[curse.]]

Gage seems surprised that you’ve interrupted his rambling. “I haven’t thought about them all day,” you sigh. Your best friend is sitting at home, not a clue where you are. You feel an overwhelming wave of homesickness, thinking of $ezra. “Is that awful? Am I a bad person for putting them completely out of my head?” you ask, mostly to yourself. “No,” Gage answers simply. “You’re not. You’ve been overwhelmed with other considerations, I imagine.” You can’t help but think of… (link: "$ezra.")[(goto: "ezra think")] (link: "Oliver.")[(goto: "oliver think")] (link: "Sabine.")[(goto: "sabine think")] (link: "Elise.")[(goto: "elise think")]

$ezra must be worried. You’ve spent nearly every morning together for the entirety of your adult life. There is a rhythm to your life with $ezra; a good one. You imagine, in great detail, $ezra finding your bed empty at the start of the day, nowhere to be found. A confused look beginning at the furrow of $his brow. Worry. Panic. You think maybe Gage is being generous in his interpretation of why you haven’t thought of your home much. You are overwhelmed, certainly, but you are also intentionally avoiding the thought of $ezra and that worried look. The guilt is tangible and [[painful.]]

Oliver is probably furious with you. He’ll feel responsible, most likely, for not picking up on your plan sooner. He’ll likely be penalized by the Council in some way for this. Even on probation, you’re a member of his team. He is Lead Scout. Oliver is not one to dodge blame, even blame he doesn’t deserve. This wasn’t something you considered before you left. You feel like you’ve ruined something that hadn’t even (link: "started.")[(goto: "painful.")]

What does Sabine think of you? You can never quite pin down what runs through her mind. You would trade god knows what to be able to rifle around inside that woman’s head. She will think this is reckless, no doubt. She may use this incident as leverage against you. You also think she might understand why you had to do this better than anyone else could. You think, naively maybe, that she may admire your (link: "drive.")[(goto: "painful.")]

You can’t imagine Elise is very happy with you right now. You hope, maybe naively, that she understands why you had to go. You’ll explain it to her. She’ll get it. She has some explaining to do as well, if the details of Eva and Gage’s story are accurate. Where was she when this was happening? The thought of losing the one parental figure in your life is not one you can bear at this exact (link: "moment.")[(goto: "painful.")]

“Do you have family? At home?” Gage asks, walking by a pile of what look like shrunken, if not slightly deformed, apples. He takes a bite, eating half of the fruit in one go. He picks a second apple for you and tosses it your way. You struggle to catch it cleanly, but finally get a hold of it after some juggling. You take a bite into soft skin, a bit mushy inside, but still good. It’s a bit sweeter than you remember apples being, almost sickly, but then, you haven’t eaten an apple in many years. Maybe this is how they’ve always tasted. You continue walking, following where he leads through the cavern and towards a corner of this place you’ve yet to explore. “Not biological family, no,” you [[answer.]]

It’s not as though you talk about your family frequently anyway. Everyone in the Community has a story that they’ve shared by now. You know not only of your own loss, but of everyone’s personal loss – that Elise could not save her young grandchildren, that Miriam had two sons, and many other stories of lost family. Your story is not a unique one. You hadn’t known your father growing up. You remember he smelled of cigarettes and old fabric and that he was very tall. You remember he would come home at the end of the day and you would run to him, little arms around denim-covered shins. You don’t remember well the day that he did not return home, nor did your mother enlighten (link: "you.")[(goto: "sister death")]

Your mother and younger sister became the center of your life, ignoring the missing presence for so long it eventually became normal. There were secrets you all held tight to your chest, but still an overwhelming love in your household. Your mother was quiet, accommodating and generous, often too much so for her own good. You looked just like her. “A mini you, Carla. Your voice and your mannerisms." Everyone said so. You felt very protective of your younger sister and also simultaneously scared of her fire. She was reckless and short-sighted. She was quick-tongued and hard-headed. Boy crazy. Listened to a single song so many times in a row that your mother would beg for her to just – please, Yara, for God’s sake – play something else. She died first. [[You don’t want to talk about this.]] [[You don’t trust him enough to talk about this.]] [[You feel comfortable sharing...for now.]]

Gage seems to sense your hesitance and drops the subject. You continue your stroll through the cavern. It’s very warm and smells, even stronger now, of dry rock and stale water. It gives you a slight headache. Most people you pass smile or wave at Gage. Many try to catch him in a conversation, but he politely dodges their openers. You are struck, again, by the ease at which he walks through this world. Many young women, in particular, seem happy to see him. Gage picks up various foodstuffs from a variety of baskets, boxes and tarps as you walk. The cavern appears like a market, if you know where to look for the food. Others do the same – picking up fruit to snack on, or herbs to save, or bread to tear a smaller piece for a child. No one is monitoring this intake, it happens naturally and is a bit of a free for all. You try to keep yourself from falling in love with this [[place.]]

“I grew up with a younger sister. It was just the two of us, and my mom,” you explain. “My sister died very early on. My mother made a choice to send me off with a neighbor after that, who said they’d heard from someone who heard from someone that there was shelter farther south. I never saw her again.” “And the neighbor?” Gage asks. “She was the one who took me to the Community. She died of hypothermia shortly after we arrived.” That’s about all you are willing to share for now. Gage doesn’t [[push.]]

You continue your stroll through the cavern. It’s very warm and smells, even stronger now, of dry rock and stale water. It gives you a slight headache. Most people you pass smile or wave at Gage. Many try to catch him in a conversation, but he politely dodges their openers. You are struck, again, by the ease at which he walks through this world. Many young women, in particular, seem happy to see him. Gage picks up various foodstuffs from a variety of baskets, boxes and tarps as you walk. The cavern appears like a market, if you know where to look for the food. Others do the same – picking up fruit to snack on, or herbs to save, or bread to tear a smaller piece for a child. No one is monitoring this intake, it happens naturally and is a bit of a free for all. You try to keep yourself from falling in love with this [[place.]]

You reach an area of stone benches, jutting from the cavern wall, where a handful of people are sitting. They stare, but do not approach you. Gage sits, and you follow. He starts with a brown loaf of bread, tearing a little less than half for himself and giving the rest to you. You take a bite directly out of the half loaf. It is overly chewy and dense, but the flavor is rich and salty. Seeds dot the bread crust, and fall down your chin. You wipe them away quickly, and continue to chow down until you’ve completely devoured the bread. Gage doesn’t comment, only hands you a fruit that resembles a mango. It’s a bit more orange, less sweet, and the pit is very large. “What about you?” you ask, though you and Gage haven’t spoken in at least a half hour. “Do you have family [[here?”]]

Gage is barely through his portion of the bread. He lowers it from his lips. “Not biological, same as you,” he says. “I was brought here very young, by a large group of adults and children. My family didn’t make it even days after the disaster struck.” He shakes his head, and takes another bite of bread. “I liked it here, though. It was safer than the trip to get here, that’s for sure,” he scoffs. “I was angry, when I arrived. A teenager missing his parents and taking it out on everyone else. I had to work some stuff out." You bite into the mango-like fruit, chew, and wait for more information. None comes. “Would you like to see the underground stream?” he [[asks.]]

By day’s end, you have seen so much of this place you can almost find your own way around. Gage assures you that he has shown you every inch of his home, and that you must know it like the back of your hand with “how intense you studied it.” He assists you back to your original room regardless. Though you’re familiar with the walls around you by this point, you still reach your hands out to touch the rock as you walk. It is still incredible. It is only when you reach your room that your anxiety returns. The bubble pops. Gage notices a change. “I can sleep outside your door,” he offers. “If that would help.” Would it? (link: "Yes.")[(set: $risk to it +1)(set: $gagesleepchoice to "yes")(goto: "yes gage")] (link: "No.")[(set: $norisk to it +1)(set: $gagesleepchoice to "no")(goto: "no gage")]

“Thank you,” you say. A modicum of tension releases from his shoulders. “You’re welcome,” he replies and gives you a final nod. Gage shifts the slab over the doorway and it is quiet. You see that someone has placed both your notes and your $weapon in your room in your absence. That feels, to you, like trust. Or a very clever [[manipulation.]]

“Alright,” he replies and gives you a final nod. Gage shifts the slab over the doorway and it is quiet. You see that someone has placed both your notes and your $weapon in your room in your absence. That feels, to you, like trust. Or a very clever [[manipulation.]]

(track: 'strum', 'stop')(track: 'intense', 'play')You sit on the end of your floor mat, legs crossed, notes in hand. You take some very brief notes, draw quick sketches of the main cavern, and put them back down. You can write further details later. You’ll remember them for a very long time. You lay down, arms at your side, and try to cease fidgeting. Alone with your thoughts, you begin to panic. Your vision tunnels, the edges of your vision blur and you can feel adrenaline start to seep into your fingertips, your scalp tingling. You drop to your knees on the floor. What the fuck are you doing here? You’re in over your head. [[Breathe.]]

You breathe in slowly, counting to five, and breathe out for another five counts. Your palms touch the cold floor, grounding you for a moment, before you are reminded — You are not safe here. [[Fucking breathe.]]

Another breath in, another breath out. You feel the momentary relief of thoughtlessness, before... [[Break down.]] (if: $risk > 3)[(link-goto: "Calm.")]

You feel your body mimicking a sob, but nothing comes out. Your mouth opens until the edges of your lips feel like they’re tearing. Your chest constricts. Your breath is short, your hands over your eyes. This choice is [[inescapable.]]

(track: 'intense', 'stop')(track: 'strum', 'play')Your heart rate lowers and you are able to take a cool, clean intake of breath. You have been in dangerous situations before. Maybe not exactly like this, but you can handle yourself. You have to. This choice is [[inescapable.]]

(track: 'intense', 'stop')(track: 'strum', 'play')When you open your eyes, you’re not entirely sure if you slept. You must have. The sun streaming in gives it away. Your body, though, feels nothing like it has met the relief of sleep. Your heart still pounds, lighter now, but the remnants of panic stick to you. The feeling of being a caged animal persists. You don’t bother trying to close your eyes and rest. Your joints crack as you rise to your feet, limbs tired. (if: $gagesleepchoice is "yes")[ “Gage?” you call out.] You move to open the door and find a large bucket of soapy water, and a smaller tin of clean water. Somewhat clean, anyway. It’s slightly cloudy, not that you’re [[complaining.]]

You lift the larger bucket, feeling your muscles strain against the movement, and drag the smaller tin into your room. In a slightly cumbersome process, you strip down and lather the soapy water into your skin and scalp, following with a clean water wash. You’re left to air dry, shaking off the excess water. You almost giggle. By the time you hear a voice outside the door, you are back in your dirty clothes. It’s Gage. You have a fleeting thought, as the first morning underground, about fleeing. It no longer seems like a viable, or necessary, option. You will leave this place, eventually, either as an ally or deserter of [[these people.]]

You open the door as Gage walks into view. He looks a bit disheveled, but still smirking. (if: $gagesleepchoice is "yes")[ “Did you really sleep out here all night?” you ask, a distrust you’re not sure if he still deserves creeping into your tone. “Until the last hour or so, yes,” he replies, bright-eyed as ever even after apparently sleeping on the ground.] “I haven’t made a decision yet,” you say, apropos of nothing. Gage holds up both palms in mock surrender. “I hadn’t asked and I wasn’t going to." “But you want me to say yes to Eva,” you [[continue.]]

(if: $playful > $serious)[“Yes. I wish you would. But I’m trying to keep the mood light. Make you like us before you decide whatever it is you’re going to decide.” He grins. (link-goto: "“Who says I like you?”") (link-goto: "“So you’re trying to manipulate me?”")](else:)[“Yes. I wish you would. But you don’t seem like one to cave to peer pressure, so...” He shrugs. (link-goto: "“We’re peers?”") (link-goto: "“So you’re trying to manipulate me?”")]

“Who says I like you?” “Ouch,” Gage pouts, but he looks amused. “I thought we could become friends, you and I.” “Hm,” is all you (link: "say.")[(goto: "understanding.")]

“We’re peers?” “$name, we are best friends now,” Gage snickers. “You know, the old best friend song and dance. I try to kill you, you try to kill me, it all works out in the end.” “Hm,” is all you (link: "say.")[(goto: "understanding.")]

“So you’re trying to manipulate me?” “Manipulate is a strong word. I’m trying to advocate for my family,” he counters. You harumph a sound of tacit [[understanding.]]

“Regardless of whether we’re friends or not, which we undoubtedly are, there’s a big party today. For a baby reaching her first birthday. You should join us,” he says. The implication of the celebration makes your chest tight. “It’s fun. There’s food and drink and general merriment.” (link: "Respond excitedly.")[(set: $risk to it +1)(set: $playful to it +1)(goto: "excited party")] (link: "Respond hesitantly.")[(set: $norisk to it +1)(set: $serious to it +1)(goto: "hesitant party")]

“Really?” You can’t help but grin. There is an immediate matching grin on Gage’s face. [[“Yes, really.”]]

“Won’t people...not like that I’m there?” Gage shrugs. “Maybe some people,” he admits. “I’ll be with you, though. No one will bother you. (link: "Promise.”")[(goto: "“Yes, really.”")]

(track: 'strum', 'stop')(track: 'party', 'play')If nothing else, the celebration is very, very loud. The echo in the main cavern, with everyone laughing and talking, makes the sound blend into one big roar. It seems that most people are slightly more dressed up than yesterday. Brighter colors have taken the place of darker clothing. You feel self-conscious in the same clothes you’ve been wearing for [[days.]]

Joyous laughter rings loudly around you. Young children run wild – you’ve almost stepped on one or two – while parents scold them half-heartedly. Teenagers who have imbibed too much trip over their own feet. Food is passed around generously, sweet fruits and braided bread loaves, and drinks are plentiful. Something quite like beer is pushed into your hand by a friendly passerby who either doesn’t know who you are or doesn’t care. Everyone seems to be in too joyous of a mood to be bothered by your presence. There are some uncomfortable stares, but that’s about it. Magda catches your eye and simply [[nods.]]

Gage has attempted to remain by your side all night, but keeps getting dragged into one group or another of rowdy adults. He is sickeningly well-liked. It’s clear that many people hold him in very high esteem. Your decision looms over you. It causes you to isolate yourself even from those who have approached you today with, if not open friendliness, objective curiosity. It makes you miss your [[friends.]]

“Sorry, sorry, Leah needed to tell me something,” Gage jogs up to you, having been pulled away again. “And I needed to answer a million questions about you from a bunch of other people.” “Is that what you’ve been doing tonight?” “Fielding question after question about you? Yes, I have.” He rolls his eyes playfully. “No one wants to come up to me?” you ask, but you’re not sure how you’d respond if someone did. “They’re nervous.” “I don’t bite.” Gage holds up his still bandaged hand, raising an eyebrow. [[“Okay, fair point.”]]

You realize, for a moment, how this must look from the outside. You and Gage huddled together, laughing, heads bent in conversation. Like you are on the same team. You really miss your team. “Are you okay?” Gage asks, studying you in a way you find you’re getting more used to. “I mean, all things considered.” [[Confide in Gage.]] [[Keep it to yourself.]]

“Just...homesick,” you admit. Gage places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Yeah. Of course, $name. Of course.” He sounds like he means it. After a beat of silence he says: “You can feel safe giving Eva an answer, $name. Either way, you can go home.” [[Be hesitant.]] [[Be distrustful.]] [[Be confident.]]

“I’m fine,” you say, trying to keep your tone completely neutral. You don’t look for his reaction, continuing to stare straight ahead. [[Be hesitant.]] [[Be distrustful.]] [[Be confident.]]

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit. “I don’t know if I believe any of this, or if I trust you or anyone here.” He doesn’t seem offended, only understanding. “And if I do believe you, I have to go home and face those people who hurt you all. And be a part of this thing that I once, you know, at least had some faith in.” You’re getting louder and more agitated, not that it would be noticed by anyone else over the noise. “I love them, Gage,” you sigh. “I don’t know if I’m ready to go back.” Silence from Gage. You think, hard, about what you’ve just admitted. “But I know I have to make a choice,” you sigh. “Can you take me to [[Eva?”]]

“I’ve made up my mind,” you declare firmly. Gage’s eyes widen. “Can you bring me to [[Eva?”]]

“I don’t know if I believe that,” you mutter. He doesn’t seem offended, only understanding. “And even if I did, I’d have to go home and face those people who hurt you all. And be a part of this thing that I once, you know, at least had some faith in.” You’re getting louder and more agitated, not that it would be noticed by anyone else over the noise. “I love them, Gage,” you sigh. “I don’t know if I’m ready to go back.” Silence from Gage. You think, hard, about what you’ve just admitted. “But I know I have to make a choice,” you sigh. “Can you take me to [[Eva?”]]

(track: 'party', 'stop')(track: 'strum', 'play')You’re back where you started – in the garden. It’s quieter in here, and damper. It feels a bit eerie. Eva looks flush, possibly with booze. She is fidgety, pacing, her arms folded across her chest. Sweat beads at her brow. She is wearing a red maroon dress, clothed from the collar of the dress at the very top of her neck past her ankles where the dress brushes the floor. She looks beautiful, and would be intimidating if not for her obvious nervousness. She stops, eventually, in front of (link: "you.")[(goto: "eva pace")]

Gage stands a few yards back, doing a terrible impression of someone who is not eavesdropping. “So,” Eva says on an out breath. She gets right to the point. “Will you help us? Will you advocate for us with your [[Community?”]]

“Yes,” you say quietly. “I want to help.” Eva beams. Gage is at your side before you’ve realized he’s moved, apparently tired of pretending not to listen in. “Thank you, $name,” Eva says. She sounds incredibly relieved. “Thank you.” You can only nod. Gage is beaming at you as well. You feel like a spotlight is on (link: "you.")[(goto: "spotlight")]

“I can’t, Eva,” you sigh. You meant for this to sound more firm, and less apologetic. “I can’t. I don’t know if I...” Fully believe you, sits on your tongue. “I can’t do this. I have to go home. I have to...regroup,” you sputter. “I can’t promise you this. It’s not wise.” You need a safe place to absorb everything. At home. With your team. You feel panicky. [[Apologize.]] [[Don’t.]]

“No time to lose then,” she says, smiling. “Gage will take you back tonight. Gage and I, along with some vice leadership, had discussed the best ways to approach your Council. But we think you know them best.” Vice leadership? Who is that? How are you already out of the loop? “What am I....asking them?” you sputter. This is all moving very fast. You wonder, momentarily, if you’ve made the wrong choice. “We’d like to be given another chance. We’d like to live without fear,” Eva answers. “If you can get past that, we’d appreciate some resources.” She laughs, almost giddy. “You’re smart, $name. You’ll know how to reach them,” she says, and begins to usher you and Gage out of the (link: "room.")[(goto: "smart")]

Your head is heavy, your thoughts moving very slowly. How is it that you are always the mouse being sent into the lion’s den? You’re spending so much time out of your comfort zone it’s beginning to feel like you will never return to the calm of your regular life. Maybe you won’t. You reach your room, empty except for a few belongings, that you pick up quickly. This is all happening too fast. You throw your bag over your left shoulder and take one last look around the room. Gage stands, very still, in the hallway. “I know Eva said it already,” he says, helping you pack the remainder of your things into your bag. “But thank you.” You throw your bag over your shoulder, rising up from your crouched position to face him. [[Take his hand.]] [[Don’t move.]]

You reach, quickly, for his hand. He grins at you, smile bright, the scar on his face bunching a bit when his lips turn upward. The buzzing of fear returns – the feeling of being prey around him. Will that feeling ever go away? He brings the back of your hand to his lips, head dipped so his dark hair falls over his face, and kisses the back of your hand. The buzzing intensifies. “Thank you,” he repeats, sounding a bit out of (link: "breath.")[(goto: "Don’t move.")]

“I don’t want to be just a pawn,” you say quietly. “I know,” he replies. You wait for something else, for reassurance, but none comes. Gage only sighs, ushering you out of the room and closing the [[door.]]

It is starting to get dark when you reach the surface. You take an enormous, full gulp of air. Goosebumps prick at your $skincolor skin. You walk with Gage, in silence, to the rover. It feels like a lifetime since you’ve last driven it.(if: $routechoice is "no")[ “I guess this is goodbye,” you say, leaning your upper back on the rover. “I guess so.” He smiles weakly. “$name, I-”] Gage stops, brow furrowed, and tilts his head slightly like a dog that has heard a smaller animal skitter away somewhere. His scar twitches. “What is it?” you ask, your voice quiet in the tenseness. “Someone’s coming up,” he says, also quiet, taking a defensive stance. You mimic (link: "him.")[(goto: "attack")]

“I’m sorry,” you say. “Really.” Eva looks disappointed, but not necessarily shocked. That makes you feel worse. “I understand, $name,” she says. “Please go. Gage will take you back up to your vehicle.” You nod, a bit stunned. That’s it, then. “Okay,” you murmur. Gage is at your side before you’ve realized it. “Let’s get your things from your room,” he says softly. You nod. Eva has already turned her (link: "back.")[(goto: "back to room")]

Eva rakes her eyes over you fully, and then stops at your neck. She does not look you in your eyes. “I understand, $name,” she says. “Please go. Gage will take you back up to your vehicle.” You nod, a bit stunned. That’s it, then. “Okay,” you murmur. Gage is at your side before you’ve realized it. “Let’s get your things from your room,” he says softly. You nod. Eva has already turned her (link: "back.")[(goto: "back to room")]

You feel numb, weightless, on your walk back to your room. You should be alert, prepared for resistance or violence, but your ears are ringing and you can’t feel your feet taking steps forward. Gage is saying something, attempting to be comforting probably, but you can’t focus. “...just upsetting to her, that’s all,” he is saying. You reach your room, empty except for a few belongings, that you pick up quickly. Suddenly, you’re in a hurry. This is all happening too [[fast.]]

You throw your bag over your left shoulder and take one last look around the room. Gage stands, very still, in the hallway. “You must think I’m an asshole,” you scoff. He answers before the sentence is even fully out of your mouth. “I think you are a person in a very difficult position,” he says. “One that I wouldn’t want to be in.” The kindness of that almost breaks you fully open. “I’m tired of feeling like a pawn,” you say. “I know,” he replies, ushering you out of the room and closing the [[door.]]

A man rises out of the hole in the ground where you both came from – where you entered just days ago – and another man follows. You don’t recognize them. They’re slow and casual, at a walking pace. Gage's stance is still tense. “Can I help you both?” Gage asks airily, as if he’s going to laugh. He doesn’t. “Don’t play dumb, Gage,” the bigger one answers. They’re both big, actually. Slightly stout, not extremely tall, but big enough. Both with large arms and dark (link: "hair.")[(goto: "attack 2")]

(track: 'strum', 'stop')(track: 'cowboy', 'play')“$She can’t leave. (if: $routechoice is "yes")[You and Eva may want to play nice,](if: $routechoice is "no")[You and Eva might believe $her,] but they can’t know where we are. $She’ll lead them to us,” the other says. The voice sounds familiar. He could be one of the men who dragged you underground. “Come on, guys,” Gage chuckles. “Let’s just–” The bigger man has already lunged. Gage steps fully in front of you and the man goes for his torso, taking both you and Gage down in the process. The man is throwing hard punches directly at Gage’s face, and you see blood almost immediately. (link: "Get to the rover.")[(set: $mind to it +1)(goto: "rover attack")] (link: "Get in this fight.")[(set: $body to it +1)(goto: "fight attack")]

You roll away and rise to your feet. The smaller man starts to move toward you, but you are in the rover before he can reach you. You reach into your bag and your hand immediately touches the cold metal of the key. Thank fuck. The rover spurts to life, another miracle, and you step on the gas. “Gage!” you shout, pulling up beside him. He dodges another punch and slides out from beneath the larger man’s hold. Gage jumps into the rover and you take off, barely able to see through the dust. Blood is pouring out of Gage's [[face.]]

You throw yourself, leading with your elbow, into the man’s side. He falls off Gage, rolling in the dirt. Gage, already standing, grabs your hand and pulls you to your feet. You look at each other for a moment, and take off towards the rover. Gage jumps in the vehicle easily, with you right behind him. You reach into your bag and your hand immediately touches the cold metal of the key. Thank fuck. The rover spurts to life, another miracle, and you step on the gas. Blood is pouring out of Gage’s [[face.]]

“Can you get my notes out of my bag?” you ask breathlessly. “I don’t know where the fuck I’m going.” “Yeah,” Gage says, spitting blood that has seeped from his nose into his mouth. He starts to rifle through your bag. “You can jump off, Gage. I’ll be fine. They’re looking to hurt me, not you.” “I think my broken nose tells a slightly different story,” he says, with [[difficulty.]]

Your foot is beginning to ache with how hard you are pressing the gas. Gage is reading your notes and giving terse directions. You feel like a child when you think – I just want to go home. You are on a straight path for some time, brushing up dirt beneath you and heading in a general direction you hope is correct. “What are you thinking?” you ask Gage calmly. Silence. “I’m thinking,” he says after a while. “That I was letting myself feel superior to you and yours. For the actions of a few years ago. I knew your people were cowards and that you all lived without a sense of justice. Now I’m wondering if every human being acts like this when they’re terrified. If I would act like that.” (link: "“You wouldn’t.”")[(set: $collectivism to it +1)(goto: "would not")] (link: "“You would.”")[(set: $individualism to it +1)(goto: "would")] [[“I don’t know.”]]

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. You can’t see Gage’s reaction; you can only hear him let out a long sigh over the sound of the rover. You talk very little for the remainder of the [[drive.]]

“You wouldn’t,” you say firmly. You can’t see Gage’s reaction; you can only hear him let out a long sigh over the sound of the rover. You talk very little for the remainder of the [[drive.]]

“Maybe you would,” you say. “Maybe we all would.” You can’t see Gage’s reaction; you can only hear him let out a long sigh over the sound of the rover. You talk very little for the remainder of the [[drive.]]

(if: $routechoice is "yes")[You could be quizzing Gage on the particulars of your return. How should you approach the Council? How will you both enter the Community? Should you be aggressive? Should you be apologetic? What does Eva think? You don’t. You only think to yourself how badly this will surely go. You’re deeply, terrifyingly nervous. You feel, beside the crippling anxiety, a bit proud of yourself. You know, being who you are, that you could not ignore the plight of the people underground. You would think of them forever, for your entire life, and not be able to let them go. As scared as you are and as reckless as you feel, this choice now seems (link: "inevitable.")[(goto: "lights")]](if: $routechoice is "no")[You wonder if you made the right choice. You feel the heat of Gage at your side, and wonder if you’ve betrayed both him and yourself. You know that you need your team’s input. Your head has been filled with pleas and half-truths and attempts to convince you to put your life on the line. You need to speak with your (link: "friends.")[(goto: "lights")]]

(track: 'cowboy', 'stop')(track: 'strum', 'play')You are locked in your thoughts for so long, you don’t initially notice the light on the horizon. It’s faint – not many Community members have their lights on in the middle of the night. You take a sharp intake of breath. Gage does, too. “How are we doing this?” he says. “We’ll drive around to the southeast side of the Community. It’s where there are the least homes, so there won’t be many lights. We’ll stay far away, so they can’t hear us, and walk the rest of the way,” you reply. “And then?” he asks. You pause for a moment. You know you need an ally. (if: $routechoice is "yes")[It might be Gage.](if: $routechoice is "no")[You have doubts about Gage, but it might have to be him.] You think about who you truly need at this moment. Who you seek out first, you know, will send you on a very specific [[path.]]

“We’ll find Oliver,” you say. “He won’t turn us away. Probably.” “Okay,” Gage says, sounding about as confident as you feel. You pull the rover in a wide path along the southeast side of the Community. You take the key out of the ignition. It is eerily quiet. Gage takes your bag for you and throws it over his shoulder, following your lead down from the rover and across the dirt. You feel alert, if a bit queasy. You lead Gage further towards the Community, remaining on the outskirts to find the best entrance to Oliver’s place. Eventually, though you feel safe on the outside of the Community, you have to enter the housing [[area.]]

“We’ll find Sabine,” you say. “She’ll know best how to go about this. If she agrees to help, anyway.” “Okay,” Gage says, sounding about as confident as you feel. You pull the rover in a wide path along the southeast side of the Community. You take the key out of the ignition. It is eerily quiet. Gage takes your bag for you and throws it over his shoulder, following your lead down from the rover and across the dirt. You feel alert, if a bit queasy. You lead Gage further towards the Community, remaining on the outskirts to find the best entrance to Sabine’s [[housing.]]

“We’ll go to my place first,” you say. “We can rest for a bit, reevaluate, and figure out what our next steps are.” “Okay,” Gage says, sounding about as confident as you feel. You pull the rover in a wide path along the southeast side of the Community. You take the key out of the ignition. It is eerily quiet. Gage takes your bag for you and throws it over his shoulder, following your lead down from the rover and across the dirt. You feel alert, if a bit queasy. You lead Gage further towards the Community, remaining on the outskirts to find the best entrance to your housing (link: "area.")[(goto: "gage area")]

“We’ll find $ezra,” you say. “$He’ll help. If $he’s still talking to me.” “Okay,” Gage says, sounding about as confident as you feel. You pull the rover in a wide path along the southeast side of the Community. You take the key out of the ignition. It is eerily quiet. Gage takes your bag for you and throws it over his shoulder, following your lead down from the rover and across the dirt. You feel alert, if a bit [[queasy.]]

You lead Gage further towards the Community, remaining on the outskirts to find the best entrance to $ezra’s place. Eventually, though you feel safe on the outside of the Community, you have to enter the housing area. “Wow,” Gage whispers. You hit him, and make a quieting gesture. “Sorry,” he says quietly, ignoring your clear annoyance. “It’s a lot to take in, even a second time.” You agree, at the moment. Gage follows behind you as you swiftly move through the abundance of shacks, keeping both of you at the backside of most of the homes. You reach the back of $ezra’s tent, and crouch behind the back tent [[wall.]]

You keep a sharp eye out for anyone who could be watching. You can’t hear any movement through the shack’s tarp walls. Asleep, probably. You motion to Gage and then quickly dart to the front entrance. He follows. Sitting at the kitchen table, practically motionless, is $ezra. $He looks terrible. $His face is gaunt, eyes cloudy. $He sees you and, unsettlingly, barely registers you for a few slow moments. You’re reminded of a recurring nightmare where $ezra has forgotten you exist. Then, $he is out of $his chair and you are in $his [[arms.]]

“$name,” $he exhales. “$name, $name, $name.” A mass of apologies are falling out of your mouth, overlapping $ezra’s repetition of your name. $He pulls back to look at your face, both of your cheeks tear-streaked. “I am so furious with you,” $he growls, but $his hands remain gentle on your shoulders. “I know, I know, I deserve that.” You try to look contrite, but you’re too pleased to be back in $ezra’s [[presence.]]

“I convinced myself you were okay out there. And then I told myself that if you came back I wouldn’t speak to you for days,” $he mutters, rolling $his eyes and wiping at $his face. “I promised myself I wouldn’t fall back at your feet.” Something about $his self-deprecating tone hits your ear strangely. $His disappointed look morphs into relief as $he pulls you back into $his chest, pressing a long kiss to the side of your temple. You feel $his body shift, and you pull back to see $his stare focused on Gage. One arm is stretched out in front of you, [[shielding.]]

“Hi,” Gage chirps and waves. “It’s fine, $ezra, really,” you start to explain, noticing that $he is beginning to reach towards the weapon typically strapped to $his ankle. “I come in peace,” Gage jokes. “You’re not helping,” you mutter. “What’s going on?” $ezra looks, understandably, puzzled. “I found them, $ezra. The People Across the Orange Plains. There’s a whole group of them and they live underground and the Council has known about them for a while now.” $ezra just stares, looking strained, mouth tight. “What are you going to do?” $he says [[finally.]]

“(if: $routechoice is "yes")[I said I would help, but I don’t really know how.](if: $routechoice is "no")[I said I wouldn’t help. But now Gage is here and] I just need help sorting through all the information.” “You want me, and everyone else, to put ourselves on the line for this,” $he says, that self-deprecating tone creeping back in. “You want to leave on a little adventure, come back with a man who tried to kill you, and have us all fall in line to help you sort out the mess. You want to leave without a fucking word to me–” You flinch. “And because you ended up being right, that makes it all okay?” [[Defend yourself.]] (link: "Apologize.")[(goto: "ezra apology")]

“They need our help, $ezra. They had this...sickness. The Council threatened them and drove them literally underground,” you plead. “You should have told me.” You nod. A tense moment passes, and $ezra deflates. “I’m going to get Oliver and Sabine. Oliver will want to plan, and Sabine will know something is up so we should include her as well,” $he says. You stop yourself from looking visibly relieved. You know you are still in the [[doghouse.]]

“I’m sorry,” you say, unable to completely hold eye contact. “You should have told me.” You nod. A tense moment passes, and $ezra deflates. “I’m going to get Oliver and Sabine. Oliver will want to plan, and Sabine will know something is up so we should include her as well,” $he says. You stop yourself from looking visibly relieved. You know you are still in the [[doghouse.]]

“Thank you,” you say, but $ezra is already putting $his shoes on. Gage throws you a sympathetic glance. His pity leaves a sour taste in your mouth. (link: "Try to talk to $ezra one more time.")[(goto: "extra talk")] (link: "Let $him go.")[(goto: "let ezra go")]

“$ezra, hold on a second,” you say, grabbing $his forearm as $he’s halfway out of the tent. $He turns back to you, resistant and exasperated, as if $he’s humoring you. (link: "Ask for reassurance.")[(goto: "reassurance")] (link: "Just hug $him.")[(goto: "hug him")]

You watch the place where $ezra was standing, after $he leaves, for a few moments. You resist the urge to cry, the burning at the bottom of your throat becoming harder to ignore. $He is so disappointed in you. “You alright?” Gage asks, hand on your upper arm. You pat his hand briefly, reassuring him, and he lets it drop. You pace around the shack, back and forth, while Gage takes a quick upright nap in one of $ezra’s kitchen [[chairs.]]

“Tell me I haven’t fucked this up forever,” you plead. “What’s this, $name?” “Our...relationship,” you sputter. $He looks surprised. You’ve punctured through $his anger suddenly. A smooth, warm hand finds its way to your cheek. You lean in, and meet $ezra’s dark eyes. “You are my family,” $he says quietly. “And you’re mine,” you respond. “We’ll talk more, okay?” $He drops $his hand from your face. You still feel a million miles away from $him. “Okay,” you (link: "assent.")[(goto: "let ezra go")]

You reach for $ezra, and $he steps into the space between your arms. (if: $ezra is "Ezra")[You wrap your arms around his strong middle and he rests his chin on the top of your head.](if: $ezra is "Elle")[She wraps her arms around your neck and places her mouth at your collarbone. You pull her further in.] You both remain there, in silence, holding each other. You consider apologizing again, but think better of it. You need this moment. “I’ll be right back,” $ezra whispers in your ear, before pulling (link: "away.")[(goto: "let ezra go")]

You are afraid of this upcoming conversation. You are bone tired and feel as though you’re on the verge of collapse. Still, there is a very slight weight off your chest. $ezra may never forgive you for this, but you’ve gotten past the initial penance. You feel something like relief when $he comes back with Oliver and Sabine in tow. Maybe you don’t deserve it, but you need a team behind (link: "you.")[(goto: "team meeting")]

“Wow,” Gage whispers. You hit him, and make a quieting gesture. “Sorry,” he says quietly, ignoring your clear annoyance. “It’s a lot to take in, even a second time.” You agree, at the moment. Gage follows behind you as you swiftly move through the abundance of shacks, keeping both of you at the backside of most of the homes. You reach the back of Oliver’s tent, and crouch behind the back tent wall. You duck under the back tarp and Gage follows your lead. Your eyes adjust too late, and Oliver has Gage pinned with a forearm to the [[neck.]]

You want to scold him, to explain, but he’s just looking at you now. He looks tired. His dark hair is greasy, stray hairs loose from his tie frame his face. His jawline is, somehow, sharper than ever. “Where the fuck have you been?” he spits, arm still pressed against Gage’s throat. “Lovely to meet you, Oliver,” Gage ekes out. Oliver does not even acknowledge that he’s spoken. “$name,” Oliver says with a tone that sounds curiously like begging. “Where did you go?” “I...it’s a long story.” Unfortunately, it looks like that's the best you can come up (link: "with.")[(goto: "ears.")]

“$name, if you could ask your boyfriend to...” Gage begins, motioning at Oliver’s grasp. The asshole is chuckling. Nothing phases him. “Oliver, he’s fine. I’ll explain,” you promise. “Explain how you disappeared for days? How I was raked over the coals in front of the Council? How we thought you might be fucking dead?” He is yelling now. “That’s a bit of an overdue explanation, $name.” “I know!” [[“Let me explain.”]] [[“Stop yelling!”]]

“Just let me explain,” you beg, hands in front of your chest like you are trying to calm a wild animal. He looks unconvinced. “Please, Oliver.” He pauses and stares at you, eyes searching your face for something. You feel, humiliatingly, a heaviness in your throat that signals you are about to cry. You don’t, but your mouth tilts downward just so, and you swallow hard, and Oliver lets go of (link: "Gage.")[(goto: "lets go of gage")]

“Stop yelling and I’ll explain!” “You’re yelling now! You get to be angry but I don’t?” He’s right, of course, the bastard. “I’m trying to get you to stop yelling!” you shout. And then, quieter: “Oliver, please.” He pauses and stares at you, eyes searching your face for something. You feel, humiliatingly, a heaviness in your throat that signals you are about to cry. You don’t, but your mouth tilts downward just so, and you swallow hard, and Oliver lets go of (link: "Gage.")[(goto: "lets go of gage")]

“Thanks,” says Gage, huffing out a light laugh and rubbing his throat where a red mark is starting to form. Oliver does not deign to respond. “What the fuck, $name?” Oliver begins, gritted teeth obstructing his speech slightly. You can tell he is struggling to remain at a non-yelling volume. “I never thought you’d be so—” “You said I could explain.” “I changed my mind,” he grunts. Oliver stands glued to the spot, refusing to step any closer towards you. You have a stupid thought about reaching out to touch (link: "him.")[(goto: "no touch")]

“You make me into an idiot, $name. I am—I was trying to be on your team. And I wake up and you’re fucking gone? And suddenly I’m being interrogated about where you are and why a rover is missing!” You don’t think it would be wise to point out he’s on the precipice of yelling again. “And the entire time I was being completely honest when I told them I had absolutely no idea where you were or if you were planning something. And I’m even more of a moron for wishing I was lying.” His anger is beginning to morph into exhaustion. You’re momentarily relieved, before seeing his haggard expression. “Oliver,” you say, trying to sound soothing. “I found them. The People Across the Orange Plains. They’re underground. And sick, sort of. And the Council...” Even Gage looks [[uncomfortable.]]

“They knew about them.” Oliver stills. Swallows. Drops his shoulders. “I knew you would have the perfect reason, beyond reproach,” he sighs. He doesn’t seem wholly angry anymore. “I can’t believe that you show up here with a man who tried to murder you, and I’m the one who needs to calm down. I can’t believe I actually thought that—” He stops. “Okay,” he breathes out. He examines you, head to toe, dirt and all. You must look utterly [[run down.]]

“You can’t go back to your place yet. Someone will see you. We have to have a plan,” he starts. He sounds like Oliver, your Lead Scout. You miss, briefly, the Oliver that yelled at you. “Stay here, both of you. I’ll wake up Sabine and $ezra and ask them to come here discreetly. $ezra has been...out of $his mind.” You swallow, hard. You don’t know if you’ll ever completely wash the guilt out of its place in your body. “Okay,” you agree. Gage nods tentatively. Lead Scout Oliver is on the move immediately. Without another word to your or Gage, he ties up his boots and heads out. [[Grab a moment with him.]] [[Let him go.]]

“Oliver, hold on,” you call out through the tarp, and he’s back inside facing you, in seconds. You forgot, while you were away, how intimidating he can be. You feel like you’re trying to share your emotions with a prison warden. “I’m sorry I keep putting you in this position. I don’t want to drag you into...whatever this is.” You shrug. You can’t look at his expression. You don’t want to know. [[Be vulnerable.]] [[Be vague.]]

“What was that about?” Gage asks, a now familiar smirk on his face. “What was what?” “You told me he would help us, not that you two have some sort of...intense thing.” “You’re deranged.” “Whatever you say,” he [[sing-songs.]]

“I came here because I knew you would have a plan. That you’d make me feel safe again,” you admit. “I know that’s selfish.” “$name, stop,” he says gently. You do. He reaches his hand up, as if to lift your chin, but hesitates. You look up at him, following the path of his fingers that have yet to touch your skin. “I’m going to get $ezra and Sabine. We will figure this out. Let me figure this out for you,” he says. Despite your better judgement, you can’t help but feel his phrasing rings romantic. “Okay,” you acquiesce. He smiles, tentative and soft. Oliver seems to be on your team again. He departs and you (link: "deflate.")[(goto: "Let him go.")]

“I came here because...” Your words peter out. Oliver seems deeply interested in your silence. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry,” you repeat. You look at him now and wait for judgement. “Again, $name, you make me feel so stupid sometimes,” he says quietly. You feel a flash of regret, wishing you could articulate exactly what you’re trying to say. He gives you what you think is supposed to be a comforting pat on the shoulder. His strong hand squeezes, stills, lets go. He departs and you (link: "deflate.")[(goto: "Let him go.")]

You pace around the shack, back and forth, while Gage takes a quick upright nap in one of Oliver’s kitchen chairs. You are afraid of this upcoming conversation. You are afraid to see $ezra. You are bone tired and feel as though you’re on the verge of collapse. Still, fractionally, you feel a bit safer that Oliver knows. Oliver – responsible, duty-bound, loyal – is thinking this through. He is a desperately needed safety net. You feel something like elation when he comes back with $ezra and Sabine in tow. Maybe you don’t deserve it, but you need a team behind (link: "you.")[(goto: "team meeting")]

Eventually, though you feel safe on the outside of the Community, you have to enter the housing area. “Wow,” Gage whispers. You hit him, and make a quieting gesture. “Sorry,” he says quietly, ignoring your clear annoyance. “It’s a lot to take in, even a second time.” You agree, at the moment. Gage follows behind you as you swiftly move through the abundance of shacks, keeping both of you at the backside of most of the homes. You reach the back of Sabine’s tent, and crouch behind the back tent (link: "wall.")[(goto: "sabine wall")]

“You’re sure about this?” Gage whispers, following you almost silently. He’s really good at sneaking around. “She’ll help us?” “Um.” You both approach Sabine’s shack from behind, crouching down. Your knees crack uncomfortably. “Your silence is filling me with confidence,” Gage mutters. You shush him to avoid answering. You begin to move slowly towards the front of the tent, Gage creeping up behind you. You move slowly, carefully, through the front [[entrance.]]

Sabine’s kitchen is empty. A teapot whistles on the stove. A candle flickers atop the kitchen table. She must be here. “Sabine,” you say, voice just above a whisper. “It’s me.” You hear shuffling from the bedroom and Sabine emerges from her hiding place, a knife in her left hand. You didn’t know she was ambidextrous in weapon wielding. “$name,” she breathes out. She looks beautiful, of course, if not slightly haunted. Her eyes look slightly sunken in, as though she hasn’t been sleeping. “Who are you?” she asks accusingly, pinning her gaze on Gage. He looks slightly flattered, the smarmy [[bastard.]]

“Gage. Well-known for getting my hand chomped down on by this one.” He motions to you. “I found them, Sabine,” you blurt. You feel rising panic, though you’re not entirely sure what you’re afraid of. “They live underground. And they were sick, very sick. And the Council...they knew everything. They threatened them to keep them away.” You scan her face for any sign of recognition, for some sort of truth hiding behind her eyes. You see only confusion. “They fucking knew there were people out there suffering, Sabine!” You’re almost yelling now. [[Ask her if she knew.]] [[Let her defend herself.]]

“Did you know?” you ask, but it comes out like an accusation. Your stupid hands are shaking and you can’t stop them. “No,” Sabine says simply. She does not elaborate. She raises an eyebrow – a challenge. You decline. You feel, per usual, that she has some sort of upper hand that you haven’t figured out yet. After a few beats, she tilts her head just slightly. “You think I knew about this, and you still came here.” Her tone leans more interested than [[accusing.]]

“You think I knew about this,” she says. It isn’t a question. She raises an eyebrow – a challenge. You decline. You feel, per usual, that she has some sort of upper hand that you haven’t figured out yet. After a few beats, she tilts her head just slightly. “You think I knew about this, and you still came here.” Her tone leans more interested than [[accusing.]]

“I find it hard to believe that something like this could have escaped your notice.” “And yet, here you are,” she says, smiling. She is openly pleased now. “There must be some reason you’re here and didn’t go running to $ezra…$he is—” she frowns. “A bit out of $his head at the moment.” Why did you come to Sabine? [[You thought she wouldn’t judge you.]] [[You want her opinion.]] [[You feel drawn to her.]] [[You don’t know.]]

“I know I’ve fucked some things up by leaving,” you admit. She snorts. “I thought you would understand why I had to go. And help me sort out what I have to do now.” She nods, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “Everyone has been so worried,” she says. “The Council has been on a rampage. We – the team I mean – came up with this story that you were just upset. You’d taken the rover on a joy ride to blow off some [[steam.”]]

“I need your objective opinion,” you admit. “I’ve been through a lot. I think I’m too close to this to figure out what I should do next.” She nods, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “Everyone has been so worried,” she says. “The Council has been on a rampage. We – the team I mean – came up with this story that you were just upset. You’d taken the rover on a joy ride to blow off some [[steam.”]]

“I guess I just…” you trail off. Her playful expression is gone, replaced by the intense focus you’ve come to expect from Sabine. “I wanted to come here. When thinking about planning my next move, I thought of you.” She nods, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “Everyone has been so worried,” she says. “The Council has been on a rampage. We – the team I mean – came up with this story that you were just upset. You’d taken the rover on a joy ride to blow off some [[steam.”]]

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “I’m having trouble figuring out my next move.” She nods, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “Everyone has been so worried,” she says. “The Council has been on a rampage. We – the team I mean – came up with this story that you were just upset. You’d taken the rover on a joy ride to blow off some [[steam.”]]

Her eyes are focused on Gage now, studying and assessing. He looks like his usual relaxed self, but the slight clench of his fists by his sides gives him away slightly. You move slightly in front of Gage to ease some of the tension and try to distract Sabine a bit. When did you become protective of Gage? You know Sabine must be wondering whose side you’re truly on. That’s what you would think, if you were her. “The joy ride story got harder to keep up the longer you were away,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Though, for all we knew, it was true. $ezra was convinced $he must have done something to drive you away. Oliver was furious.” Your heart [[clenches.]]

“I understand, $name, where you’re coming from,” she admits and you perk up, almost invisibly. “I know what it’s like to grab an idea by the teeth and not let go. This just seemed...very poorly thought out.” Gage muffles a quiet laugh. “It wasn’t thought out at all,” you acquiesce. “But I was right, Sabine. I found them. I don’t know what I fully believe yet, but I know something is wrong.” “And you want me to help sort it out?” she asks. You hesitate, and then you nod. She smiles. You’ve either done the right thing or she was expecting this outcome all along. Maybe [[both.]]

She moves toward you, wiping some dirt off the top of your forehead with the heel of her palm. “I’ll get the team. You two wait here, rest, take a shower, maybe,” she suggests. “You both look like shit.” “Thanks,” says Gage. She tucks strands of hair behind both your ears, not breaking eye contact as she gently prods and wipes dirt from your cheeks. The sudden intimacy feels like forgiveness. [[Thank her.]] [[Ask her why.]]

“Thank you, Sabine,” you say, trying to inject your voice with all the gratitude and awe you feel for her in this moment. “Anytime,” she almost whispers, sounding just as mesmerized as you. “I’m going to get Oliver and $ezra,” she repeats. “Feel free to get comfortable.” Gage takes her invitation immediately, plopping down in her kitchen chair and beginning to untie his shoes. She rolls her eyes almost imperceptibly. “Don’t go running away again on me now.” She winks at you. “Promise.” You (link: "smile.")[(goto: "team meeting")]

“Why are you doing this?” “Still questioning my motives?” she chuckles, letting her hands drop from your face. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She ponders for a moment, taking a small step back. She peers at Gage, and then focuses her attention back to you. “I think I may actually be acting completely selfishly,” she says. “You are one of the most interesting people I have ever met. You think I’m helping you, but I’m riding your coattails.” You don’t know what to say to (link: "that.")[(goto: "sabine why")]

“I’m going to get Oliver and $ezra,” she repeats. “Feel free to get comfortable.” Gage takes her invitation immediately, plopping down in her kitchen chair and beginning to untie his shoes. She rolls her eyes almost imperceptibly. “Don’t go running away again on me now.” She winks at you. “Promise.” You (link: "smile.")[(goto: "team meeting")]

(if: $rochoice is "gage")[You do eventually make the decision to wake your team up in the middle of the night. Apparently, they are already awake. You, alone, make your way carefully to Sabine’s shack – the closest – and she alerts the others. You congregate in the kitchen, as usual if anything was as usual. You’ve explained very little to them thus far – only that you found them, the People Across the Orange Plains. And that maybe, somehow, the Council knew about them very recently. Everyone shuffles around for a few moments, getting tea or pulling out a chair or giving Gage a wide berth. You had imagined your homecoming being intense, but never this (link-goto: "awkward.")](if: $rochoice is "oliver")[You congregate in Oliver’s kitchen, as usual if anything was as usual. Oliver has explained very little to the others thus far – only that you found them, the People Across the Orange Plains. And that maybe, somehow, the Council knew about them very recently. $ezra looks terrible when you see $him. $His face is gaunt, eyes cloudy. $His pace is slow, and $he walks with almost an odd gait. “Holy shit, you asshole,” $he exhales upon seeing you, leaping forward to hug you. $He pulls back to look at your face, both of your cheeks tear-streaked. “I am so furious with you,” $he growls, but $his hands remain gentle on your shoulders. “I know, I know, I deserve that.” You try to look contrite, but you’re too pleased to be back in $ezra’s presence. “I’m more angry with you than I’ve ever been in my life, but, fuck, I’m so glad you’re here,” $he mutters, rolling $his eyes and wiping at $his face. You hold each other for a while longer, only splitting up after the silence has become strange. Everyone shuffles around for a few moments, getting tea or pulling out a chair or giving Gage a wide berth. You had imagined your homecoming being intense, but never this (link-goto: "awkward.")](if: $rochoice is "sabine")[You congregate in Sabine’s kitchen, as usual if anything was as usual. Sabine has explained very little to the others thus far – only that you found them, the People Across the Orange Plains. And that maybe, somehow, the Council knew about them very recently. $ezra looks terrible when you see $him. $His face is gaunt, eyes cloudy. $His pace is slow, and $he walks with almost an odd gait. “Holy shit, you asshole,” $he exhales upon seeing you, leaping forward to hug you. $He pulls back to look at your face, both of your cheeks tear-streaked. “I am so furious with you,” $he growls, but $his hands remain gentle on your shoulders. “I know, I know, I deserve that.” You try to look contrite, but you’re too pleased to be back in $ezra’s presence. “I’m more angry with you than I’ve ever been in my life, but, fuck, I’m so glad you’re here,” $he mutters, rolling $his eyes and wiping at $his face. You hold each other for a while longer, only splitting up after the silence has become strange. Everyone shuffles around for a few moments, getting tea or pulling out a chair or giving Gage a wide berth. You had imagined your homecoming being intense, but never this (link-goto: "awkward.")](if: $rochoice is "ezra")[You congregate in $ezra’s kitchen, as usual if anything was as usual. $ezra has explained very little to the others thus far – only that you found them, the People Across the Orange Plains. And that maybe, somehow, the Council knew about them very recently. Sabine and Oliver are very attentive towards $ezra, and perhaps a little cold towards you. They both watch you with interest, giving each other looks when you and $ezra interact. Their protective demeanor hurts you, but you would be a fool to think it doesn’t make sense. Everyone shuffles around for a few moments, getting tea or pulling out a chair or giving Gage a wide berth. You had imagined your homecoming being intense, but never this (link-goto: "awkward.")]

Eventually, though you feel safe on the outside of the Community, you have to enter the housing area. You approach your shack from the back, sneaking your way around to the front entrance and ducking inside. Gage follows quickly behind you. You let out a relieved breath as you enter. It’s dark, but your eyes begin to adjust. You walk carefully across the kitchen and reach into your cabinets, pulling out two wax candles, a piece of flint and a small, dull [[knife.]]

You place the candles on the kitchen counter and begin to strike the flint over the first wick. It takes a few tries. Before you can start to get truly frustrated, the flint sparks and ignites the wick. You hand the candle to Gage, who accepts it, and turn back to the counter. “What about your light fixtures?” he asks, having the good sense to whisper. “Too bright,” you respond. “And there’s an electricity rationing system. I don’t think a night of the lights would tip anyone off too much, but…” You trail off and face the counter again, trying to light the second wick. Despite having just done so, you cannot seem to get the flint to light in the same way. You strike quickly, once.Twice. Three times. Still, no [[spark.]]

After the sixth try, you put your hands down on the counter, flint still grasped in both hands, and bow your head. You instruct yourself to take deep breaths, to calm down, to remember that you haven’t gotten much sleep. “$name?” says Gage hesitantly, coming to stand next to you. You don’t respond, afraid you will have some sort of emotional breakdown if you try to speak. Gage reaches for the candle at the center of the counter, tips his candle slightly to the side, and ignites your wick with (link: "his.")[(goto: "candle")]

“Sorry,” you say, at a crossroads between laughing and crying. “I just need a minute.” “No worries,” is all he says, moving away from you. You can hear his hesitant footsteps and see peripherally that he is lifting the candle to examine your home. “I have to say, I pictured more of a mad $position’s lair,” he says. You turn to face him, leaning on the counter with arms crossed over your chest. You quickly move to wipe underneath your eyes, happy to find dryness there. [[“Oh, did you?”]]

“Definitely,” he smirks. In the warm candlelight, his scar is even more prominent. His eyes gleam and the blood and dirt caking his skin makes them stand out even more. He is, objectively, extremely handsome. “(if: $position is "Navigator")[Maps](if: $position is "Healer")[Medical supplies](if: $position is "Scientist")[Equipment](if: $position is "Historian")[Books] strewn all over the place. Pictures connected by red string. Barely legible scribbles on notepads laying around,” he says, still smiling at you. “I’m simply an organized mad $position.” “Of course you are,” he says. “Too perfect.” You don’t ask him to elaborate on that. You’re not touching that comment with a ten foot [[pole.]]

You let him wander a little more, taking the place in. He is utterly and unnervingly calm. It seems unfair, and impossible, that he be free of tension. “Why are you doing this?” you ask to break the silence that is beginning to close in on you.(if: $routechoice is "yes")[ “You didn’t have to come here. You didn’t have to even trust me in the first place.” “Easy answer is that Eva asked me to. She trusts me, and she wants this to go well.” “And the difficult answer?” “$name,” he sighs, placing the candle on the kitchen table in front of him. His face is now mostly clouded in shadow, but you can still see the curve of his lips and the shadow of facial hair. “The difficult answer revolves around the fact that I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since the day I met you.” He waves his injured hand up as though it is proof. “I could have stayed at home, but I would have just spent the time thinking of you, anyway.” “Oh,” you manage to (link: "respond.")[(goto: "gage convo")]](if: $routechoice is "no")[ “You have no obligation to me, after I refused to help your people. You could have joined those men trying to keep me there, underground. You could try to force me to play along, strongarm me into doing what you want. ” “I wouldn’t say you refused to help. You refused Eva’s plan. I might have done the same in your position,” he explains. “I still think there is work that can be done here, between our communities. I’m thinking of my next move while you’re thinking of yours. Maybe they’ll end up being the same move.” “That’s not very clear,” you accuse. “$name,” he sighs, placing the candle on the kitchen table in front of him. His face is now mostly clouded in shadow, but you can still see the curve of his lips and the shadow of facial hair. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the day I met you.” He waves his injured hand up as though it is proof. “I’ve been at your side due to reverence, not obligation. Is that clearer?” “Not really,” you manage to eke (link: "out.")[(goto: "gage convo")]]

“So,” he says, moving to lean on the opposite end of the counter, farther away from you than before. He mirrors your pose, arms crossed over chest. “What is your next move?” You shake your head. “No fucking clue,” you say honestly. “I just want to talk to my friends. Is that pathetic?” “Not at all,” he answers immediately. “Can you get to them?” “In the middle of the night?” Gage looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “$name, I’m sure they’re worried about you. I’m sure they’d like to see you as soon as possible.” “Or they hate me and never want to see me again,” you mutter. “Well, darling, we’ll find out soon, (link: "won’t we?”")[(goto: "team meeting")]

“Okay,” says Oliver, finally. “Out with it.” Tension eases. Gage’s shoulders drop. Sabine and Oliver lean in, as though trying to catch every word out of your mouth. $ezra tries to look calm and disinterested, but $his leg is bouncing very quickly. And so, you begin. You start with your trip out and how you got the rover in the first place. You describe the exact area you were sitting when the men grabbed you and took you underground. You describe Gage’s greeting and Eva’s proposal. You describe the history of the people underground, and their gardens and children and [[parties.]]

To your relief, everyone seems to light up. There is a smoothness to your retelling, a pride to this narrative. It is, in a word, exciting. It is exciting to know this, to share this, to be here. Even Gage appears enthralled. “They were sick,” you say, reaching the part of the story that still eats at your heart, that tears at your conscience. “They were sick, and they came to us for help, and the Council turned them away. That is what Eva told me.” You tell them of Gage’s prior knowledge of you, of your notes, of Leah. You describe the cavern in all its glory. You talk of your escape, your brush with violence, and your last conversation with Eva. (if: $routechoice is "no")[You tell them that you refused. You tell them that you didn’t know, and still don’t know, who to (link: "trust.")[(goto: "story end")]](if: $routechoice is "yes")[You tell them that you accepted. That you told Eva you would try to build bridges for them (link: "here.")[(goto: "story end")]]

By the end of the story, with no interruptions, your throat is beginning to get dry. You’ve sat up and sat down, paced, pleaded for Gage to jump in (he didn’t) and finally sat back down. “And then Gage and I left the rover on the outskirts, near the southeast side,” you finish, crossing one leg over the other. You’re beginning to feel the strain of your escape, muscles starting to strain and complain. Your stomach turns, having been empty for too long. You can imagine what you look like to them – tired, beat down, a man who tried to kill you in tow. You know that everything you’ve just said sounds unbelievable, even for (link: "you.")[(goto: "what now")]

“So,” Sabine begins. “What are we going to do?” “We can’t confront the Council outright,” says Oliver. “They’ll get defensive. We need some sort of tangible proof.” “You believe this shit?” balks $ezra. “All we have is the word of a guy who let his buddy chuck an ax at us?” “Chucking an ax doesn’t negate telling the truth, I’d think,” Gage chimes in. “We didn’t ask you,” mutters Sabine. “(if: $routechoice is "yes")[But $name clearly saw something that made $her believe it. That’s stronger than the weight of this fucker’s word.](if: $routechoice is "no")[But $name clearly has doubts, no thanks to this fucker.]” “Hey,” protests (link: "Gage.")[(goto: "crying")]

In the midst of this bickering, you – for not the first time today – have to keep yourself from crying. Your team is still your team. You’ve hurt them, pushed them, and laid yourself at their mercy. You have done something in your life to deserve them, though you don’t know what. “$name,” Sabine says, forcing you to pull yourself together and focus for the moment. “(if: $routechoice is "no")[Do you want nothing to do with them? Do you want us to force this guy out of here?](if: $routechoice is "yes")[Do you really want to move forward with this? You trust this guy?]” “I have a name,” says Gage. “Fuck off,” Oliver mutters under his [[breath.]]

(if: $routechoice is "no")[“I don’t know who to trust at the moment. They had knowledge of my notes, they had a convincing story and they didn’t seem to be lying. I’m not sure why they would. It’s possible that they have a bigger plan I’m not seeing yet, that there’s some manipulation I haven’t yet figured out,” you explain. You shoot Gage a somewhat guilty glance. Sabine clocks it, and speaks again to draw your attention. (if: $rochoice is "sabine")[“So, we need some sort of proof. Someone needs to talk. And we need a cover story for $name while we do it,” she (link-goto: "muses.")] (if: $rochoice is "ezra")[“So, we need some sort of proof. Someone needs to talk. And we need a cover story for $name while we do it,” she muses. “We came up with this story that you were just upset. You’d taken the rover on a joy ride to blow off some steam. That story got harder to keep up the longer you were (link: "away.”")[(goto: "muses.")]](if: $rochoice is "oliver")[“So, we need some sort of proof. Someone needs to talk. And we need a cover story for $name while we do it,” she muses. “We came up with this story that you were just upset. You’d taken the rover on a joy ride to blow off some steam. That story got harder to keep up the longer you were (link: "away.”")[(goto: "muses.")]](if: $rochoice is "gage")[“So, we need some sort of proof. Someone needs to talk. And we need a cover story for $name while we do it,” she muses. “We came up with this story that you were just upset. You’d taken the rover on a joy ride to blow off some steam. That story got harder to keep up the longer you were (link: "away.”")[(goto: "muses.")]]](if: $routechoice is "yes")[“They have knowledge of my notes. They seemed sincere,” you explain. Your team looks disbelieving. “These are people who have lost many children. That I can tell. It’s possible that they have a bigger plan I’m not seeing yet, that there’s some manipulation I haven’t yet figured out, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Gage looks almost proud. (if: $rochoice is "sabine")[“We need a cover story for $name while we figure out our next move,” she (link-goto: "muses.")](if: $rochoice is "ezra")[“We need a cover story for $name while we figure out our next move,” she muses.“We came up with this story that you were just upset. You’d taken the rover on a joy ride to blow off some steam. That story got harder to keep up the longer you were (link: "away.”")[(goto: "muses.")]](if: $rochoice is "oliver")[“We need a cover story for $name while we figure out our next move,” she muses.“We came up with this story that you were just upset. You’d taken the rover on a joy ride to blow off some steam. That story got harder to keep up the longer you were (link: "away.”")[(goto: "muses.")]](if: $rochoice is "gage")[“We need a cover story for $name while we figure out our next move,” she muses.“We came up with this story that you were just upset. You’d taken the rover on a joy ride to blow off some steam. That story got harder to keep up the longer you were (link: "away.”")[(goto: "muses.")]]]

“$Hers joy ride ended up with $her getting lost? (if: $position is "Navigator")[The great Navigator had a momentary lapse?]” $ezra suggests. “Could work. Not the tightest story we could have, but (if: $she is "she")[she looks](if: $she is "he")[he looks](if: $she is "they")[they look] beat up enough that it could be believable,” Oliver says. “It could buy us the time we need.” You want to nod, want to add something helpful, but your eyes are beginning to glaze over. The conversation is going in and out around you. You’ve been staring into space for a few minutes. $ezra reaches over and places a hand on your upper arm. You flinch at the touch, sitting straight up for a quick second. Sabine tuts sympathetically. “Sleep,” you groan. The others all [[nod.]]

(if: $rochoice is "ezra")[“Go off to bed, $name,” $ezra says, the gentlest $he’s spoken to you all day. “I’ll bring out a mat for Gage.” You want to ask if $he’ll join you, but you suppress that thought quickly and completely. It isn’t hard to do when your mind is half asleep already. Oliver and Sabine check in with you in their own ways. Sabine pats your head and Oliver stares menacingly at you before pulling you into a quick (link-goto: "hug.")](if: $rochoice is "oliver")[“Stay here,” says Oliver, too suddenly. “You’re safest here.” You feel that is true. If the others disagree, they say nothing. You imagine, vividly for a moment, sleeping in Oliver’s bed. Wrapped in arms and smell and comfort. You’re too tired to even scold yourself for letting your thoughts wander. You and $ezra share another long hug before $he finally agrees to leave. Sabine gives you a look you can’t quite decipher, and then she departs (link-goto: "as well.")](if: $rochoice is "sabine")[“$She’ll stay here. Any more movement would be bad right now,” Sabine says. “We’ll figure out the rover issue in the morning.” Oliver nods. These two seem to be getting along better, or at least they’ve bonded over managing your recklessness. You and $ezra share another long hug before $he finally agrees to leave. Oliver, surprisingly, also gives you a quick hug, and then he departs (link: "as well.")[(goto: "as well sabine")]](if: $rochoice is "gage")[“You feel safe staying here tonight?” Sabine asks. “With him?” All three heads swivel in Gage’s direction. Surprisingly, even to yourself, you do feel safe with Gage. You do not know what you will do next, but you know that you don’t feel...unsafe. At least, not in the way that Sabine means. “I’m fine,” you assure them. They look skeptical, but seem to trust your judgement. You and $ezra share another long hug before $he finally agrees to leave. Sabine and Oliver both give your shoulder a comforting pat, allow a quick glare in Gage’s direction, and then (link-goto: "depart.")]

You don’t even have the energy to eavesdrop on Gage and $ezra’s conversation, possibly an argument. You walk like a zombie to the shower area, bathing yourself in ice cold water, and – selfishly, you know – wrapping yourself in $ezra’s clothes. They smell like $him. You lay on $ezra’s bed, remembering the last time you laid in this exact spot. You stare upward at the ceiling, drifting into sleep already, before you notice $ezra’s (link: "presence.")[(goto: "ezra sleep")]

There is some discussion about getting Gage a mat to sleep on that you can barely focus on. You sip the rest of the tea $ezra left on the counter, and then approach Oliver. “Shower?” you ask. You’re limited to one word sentences at this point, apparently. “Of course,” coughs out Oliver, nodding towards his shower area. “Help yourself.” There is cold water in a nearby jug, likely left over from the morning. It will do, and it [[does.]]

“Can I grab a quick shower and then I’ll sleep on a mat? Or the floor?” you ask, picking up the tea cups on the kitchen table and placing them in the large metal sink. “Don’t be absurd,” Sabine scoffs. “You’ll take the bed.” You’re too tired to keep up this charade of the polite guest. It feels ridiculous, considering the situation. You yawn, long and loud, and run the heels of your palms over your eyes. “Okay,” you concur, making your way to the bedroom. “Are you, $name $lastname, being compliant?” Sabine laughs, [[incredulous.]]

You look at Gage for a moment, silent, and let out a long sigh at the exact same time. Gage laughs, you giggle, and a knot begins to loosen in the pit of your stomach. “Oh, god, let me get you cleaned up,” you say, shocked that the dried blood running from his nose to his chin just struck you as a problem. (if: $position is "Healer")[“I’ll take a look to see if it’s really broken.”] You dart into your bedroom, picking up a spare cloth from your laundry, and wet it in a nearby jog of cold water. It feels so odd to be back here, standing in your [[home.]]

“Sleep with me,” you plead, knowing you sound pathetic. $He shakes $his head. You feel a light kiss to your forehead. It is long. It feels like home. “Don’t do this again,” $he whispers into your skin. “Don’t make me imagine living my life without you.” You wonder if your “I won’t” makes it out of your mouth before you are (link: "asleep.")[(goto: "ch 5")]

You are, inexplicably, laying in Oliver’s bed, in one of his shirts, under his blanket. You are somewhere in between awake and asleep, possibly dreaming that you’re half naked in a man’s bed. Oliver’s bed. “Goodnight,” Oliver says from the doorway, and you startle. Apparently, he is sleeping on a mat as well. “I can take the mat, I don’t–” “Goodnight, $name,” he says firmly. “Sleeping in your shirt is okay? Sorry, I grabbed the first clean clothes I could find.” Oliver swallows audibly. “Jesus. Yes, fine,” he says, takes one last look at you, and (link: "retreats.")[(goto: "ch 5")]

“Tell me if I’m pushing too hard,” you instruct, gently wiping the damp cloth down under his nose and mouth where the blood has caked and flecks are already falling off on their own. (if: $position is "Healer")[“It doesn’t look fractured to me, just badly swollen.”] You wipe especially carefully around where most of the swelling is. He either doesn’t feel pain, or he’s gotten very good at not flinching. Judging by the look of his nose, it’s the latter. As you wipe the last of the blood away, some of it dried in the grooves of his scar, his body immediately tenses up. His jaw clenches, his hands ball into fists, but he does not move away from you. You pause, waiting for a signal. “It’s okay,” he says finally. You have never heard him sound so [[exposed.]]

You reach up again, aware of his bright eyes on your every move. You dab, softly, and remove the last spots of blood. “Done,” you say throatily. You drop your hand from his face, resting it on the top of his thigh. He moves, slowly, to run his thumb along the inside of your wrist. “Bedtime?” he chuckles. (link: "“Yes.”")[(goto: "ch 5")]

“I’m too tired to resist,” you whine. “My body hurts. I can’t think. If you want to take care of me, I’ll let you. One night only, that’s my final offer.” You giggle. You’re growing a little delirious, possibly. “I’ll take that offer,” she laughs. “A warning, though. Once you let me play caretaker, it will be tough to shake me off. I’m stubborn.” “That’s fine. Stubborn women are my type.” Definitely delirious. Sabine’s face is turning a lovely shade of rose. It’s enamoring. “Let’s get you to bed,” she diverts. She sounds adorably flustered. You have to see that color on her cheeks (link: "again.")[(goto: "ch 5")]

...will you? Choose carefully. <big><big>(link: "Yes. You believe them.")[(set: $routechoice to "yes")(goto: "yes major choice")] (link: "No. You just want to go home.")[(set: $routechoice to "no")(goto: "no major choice")]</big></big>

Who do you want to continue this journey with? Be sure. <big><big>(link: "Go to $ezra.")[(set: $rochoice to "ezra")(goto: "ezra big choice")] (link: "Go to Oliver.")[(set: $rochoice to "oliver")(goto: "Go to Oliver.")] (link: "Go to Sabine.")[(set: $rochoice to "sabine")(goto: "Go to Sabine.")] (link: "Stick with Gage.")[(set: $rochoice to "gage")(goto: "Stick with Gage.")]</big></big>

You have no reason to trust anything these people say. They know too much about you, but that is all. They have provided no proof. They’ve tried to hurt you and your team members once before. There are any number of things they might do, a myriad of ways they could be manipulating you. Miriam could be right. They could be dangerous. You could lead them to your home, to the people you love. You could be putting your family in danger. Your selfish curiosity could ruin years of work and improbable survival. You might believe them. What is your responsibility, then? They are human beings, a rarity if there ever was one. They have children and friends and full lives. Who are you to ignore their plight, especially when it could help you both? The Community is strong, but they cannot continue expanding this way forever. Combining your knowledge with this group, a group who has learned to survive under the ground, could be the difference between life and death in the coming years. You want the least amount of people in this miserable wasteland to die. It’s not as simple as that, it [[seems.]]