ALBA

by HL TRUSLOVE

  Eyes wide, he begins to shake his head desperately, trying to talk around his gag, begging you to spare his life, before you turn it around and smash it into his head. For the second time in as many days his head lulls backwards, unconscious. You throw the gun into the corner of the room and leave the windmill, shutting the door behind you as you walk back down the hill.

  You don’t untie him.

  END.

  Add Courgettes & Tomatoes (F.23) to your notebook.

  Add Cruelty to your character sheet.

  Add The Battlefield (Chapter 26, L.26) and The Streets (Chapter 28, L.28) to map.

  23.20

  The man sniffs and looks up at you, hands stilling at his work for a moment.

  “I farm,” he tells you at length.

  “Oh?” You try to prompt more out of him.

  “Yep. Soil up here is pretty decent. Not as irradiated as everything else.”

  “Did you try farming in other places?” You don’t know much about farm work but it’s nice to have a conversation with someone. The man takes a long moment to reply again, as if he’s considering every word he’s about to say and wondering if he should impart it.

  “Yeah. Family did. Grandfather. After the bombs fell. Went around trying to grow things. Found the best place was here.”

  “So it was a family business?”

  “‘Business’? No. Way of survival. If you can grow food, you can eat it. Makes you better off than the other buggers round here.”

  “They had a farm back at the vault,” you tell him, then click your mouth shut. You didn’t mean to tell him you came from the vault, not until you got more of a feel for how he would react, but he doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he raises an eyebrow and continues, “You do much of it?”

  “They tried to get all the children to join in. I was never very good. Plus, all the vegetables sort of tasted like chemicals. They weren’t very tasty.”

  The man finishes tidying up your wound, tying the ends of the bandage off neatly, before standing up with more energy than you’d seen him display.

  “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  You’re not sure what that means, but you take the opportunity to follow him. He leads you out of the windmill and towards the white tunnels next to it. Finally getting a better look at them, you can see they’re made of shiny plastic, and stretch out a good fifty feet in length. The man pulls back a flap and gestures you inside.

  The interior is surprisingly warm, and you’re shocked at what greets you – you’ve never seen so many vegetables in one place. Ripe red tomatoes, full and heavy, looking ready to fall off the vine. Long, shiny green courgettes. There are a couple of vegetables you don’t know the name of and you find yourself stepping towards them to hold them in your hand, study them, try to work out if they were anything like the ones you had back in the vault.

  “You grew all this?!” you exclaim, gobsmacked. The man smiles a bit, surprisingly shy but also clearly quite proud of his crop.

  “Aye.”

  “By yourself?”

  His face falls for just a second and you realise you’ve accidentally hit a nerve. Something you genuinely didn’t intend to do. When he answers, his voice is soft.

  “Aye. Just me now.”

  You don’t push any further. Instead you run your hands through the leaves of the plants and try to concentrate on the texture and the smell, making sure this memory is something you can carry with you when you leave and head back out into the world.

  Ask to take a sample of the soil – Turn to 23.23, Needs Chemistry.

  * * *

  Ask to stay the night – Turn to 23.24.

  * * *

  Leave now – Turn to 23.25.

  23.21

  “Why all the traps?” you ask. He grunts.

  “Keeps nosy parkers out.”

  You take offence to that, but then you see a tiny smile on his lips and realise he was joking. It makes you feel oddly reassured.

  “Apart from that, then.”

  “Raiders,” he sighs, “getting worse ’n’ worse these days. Had to start putting the traps up about a year ago. They lost a lot of people last time they tried to come ’ere. Haven’t tried again since.”

  You nod. It’s impressive, one man holding back a whole clan of raiders single-handedly. Then you think of the price he has to pay for his safety, being up here all alone all the time. Is it worth the threat of raiders, you wonder, to have the comfort of community? The longer you’re out in this strange land, the less you can answer that question.

  The man ties off the bandage and you give your shoulder a little roll, testing how it feels. The bandages seem tight and secure, and though it still hurts to move, you definitely feel better.

  “Thank you,” you tell him. He nods and leans back in his chair, summing you up again before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pipe, lighting it up and puffing the smoke down. You cough a little bit when he exhales.

  “So, you gonna tell me why you were up ’ere?”

  “I was looking for my group. I got separated from them in the storm a while back.”

  “Mmm,” he says, agreeing with you, “it was a nasty one. Your group got radio?”

  The question knocks you and you don’t answer until he asks again.

  “Yes, I think so,” you say, trying to remember what the base looked like when you arrived there all that time ago.

  “There’s a radio tower not far from here. Still works is what I hear. Could find your group using that.”

  Your eyes light up.

  “Really?”

  “Yep. You got a map?”

  You rummage in your pack and spread it out onto the table. The man pulls a little black pen from his pocket and starts making annotations. You watch, enraptured.

  “Here’s the radio tower. You’re gonna wanna avoid here, here, and here.” He jabs the pen into the last circle he drew. “That’s where the raiders come from.”

  “All right,” you say, taking the map as he rolls it back up.

  “You’ll wanna be on your way before the sun sets. Avoid the traps.”

  “Yes, of course.” You get to your feet and pull your pack over your good shoulder, not wanting to overstay your welcome. The man sees you to the door and watches you go, making sure you leave. You understand why he’s cautious so you don’t take offence. You decide to concentrate on the journey ahead of you and try not to stand in any other traps.

  END.

  Add Windmill Warden (E.8) to your character sheet.

  Add The Battlefield (Chapter 26, L.26), The Streets (Chapter 28, L.28), The Base/The Offer (Chapter 18, L.18), and The Radio Tower (Chapter 25, L.25) to map.

  23.22

  The two of you sit in silence as he does his work. You want to try to strike up a conversation, but you don’t know how. This man is so odd and quiet. You’re worried that anything you say will make him reach for his gun. So instead you wait, the only sounds the soft movement of bandages and two sets of breathing.

  Eventually, he ties the bandage off and inspects his work, clearly happy with it. Then, he stares up at your face and his happiness abruptly ends.

  “You’d better get going,” he tells you.

  “Yes, of course,” you say, tucking your arm back into your coat and getting ready to leave. He watches you as you go. You want to ask him for directions, but you get the feeling that conversation has ended. As you leave, you survey the surroundings, taking in this view for the last time. In the distance, you see a trail of caravans trundling their way along a hill. You’ll head there next, you decide. Maybe they’ll be more open to discussion.

  You leave and try not to think about the fact you know he’s watching you.

  END.

  Add Instability to your character sheet.

  Add The Caravans (Chapter 24, L.24) to map.

  23.23

  “Can I take a sample of the soil here? It would be nice to be able to analyse it to see what grows best.”


  The man nods and you scrape some of the soil into a container, something that will help preserve it until you get back to your group. The man discusses the pH balance of the dirt with you, talking about different fertilisers he’s come up with to maximise his crop yield. His face lights up when he talks about his plants. It’s quite endearing. The two of you end up in a lengthy chat about gardening, and by the time you leave the tunnel farm to go back inside, it’s evening.

  “I don’t know where you’re going. But if you don’t find it, and you ever want a job, I’d be happy to have you here,” he says. You smile. It’s a nice thought. If you didn’t find your group, maybe you could see yourself having a life here.

  Turn to 23.24.

  23.24

  You let out a loud yawn, which catches you by surprise. You slam your hand over your mouth and look over to see if you’ve offended the man. He just chuckles.

  “You can stay here tonight if you want. Wouldn’t wish going back down the hill in the dark on you.”

  You worry for a moment, because you don’t really know him and he does have a gun, but from the little he’s opened up to you, he seems quite genuine. Just a little shy. A little rusty at socialising, maybe.

  “I’d appreciate that. Thank you very much.”

  The man sets up a bed for you on his floral sofa and bids you goodnight before ascending the stairs to go to sleep himself. The blankets he’s given you are musty from dust and disuse, but they still keep you snug and warm. You listen for a little while, just to make sure he definitely goes to sleep, before allowing yourself to indulge too.

  You wake up to the smell of fried food. It’s something you’ve not smelled for a long time. With a yawn, you sit up and see the man is standing over his stove, an assortment of frying pans laid out before him. He smiles.

  “Coffee?” he asks. You’ve never had it before. You only ever had tea back in the vault. Or water, usually.

  “Thank you,” you say, and he brings you over a mug of steaming brown liquid. You taste it and gag, making him laugh.

  “All right. It’s not for everyone,” he tells you, bringing you a mug of water instead, along with a plate of steaming fried vegetables and two large eggs. It smells divine. You begin to gobble it down with your fingers, stopping only when he returns to pass you a fork. You try not to eat so fast you feel sick.

  “Why are you being so kind to me?” you ask, finally addressing the question that’s been on your mind all morning.

  “Because it’s nice to have the company of someone who doesn’t want to rob me,” he tells you honestly.

  Ah. When he puts it like that you understand.

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” you tell him.

  “You’re welcome to come back here, you know. If you don’t find what you’re looking for. You’ll have to mind the traps, though.”

  You nod. If you really don’t ever find your group again…

  You try not to think about it.

  “Take this,” he says as you stand, passing you a piece of paper. It’s a hand-drawn map of the local area with annotations on it.

  “There’s a radio tower near here. I think it still works. You might be able to get in contact with whoever you’re looking for. Also jotted down a couple of places you’ll wanna watch out for.”

  You thank him again, making a note to add his map to your own. When you leave, he watches you go. You think it’s partly to make sure you do actually leave his property, but also to see you off. You hope he won’t be lonely without you. Then again, as he said, you could always come back…

  END.

  Add Windmill Warden (E.8) to your character sheet.

  Add The Battlefield (Chapter 26, L.26), The Streets (Chapter 28, L.28), The Base/The Offer (Chapter 18, L.18), and The Radio Tower (Chapter 25, L.25) to map.

  23.25

  You spend more time at the farm, discussing the man’s farming and life in general, but soon you realise the sun is going down and you need to be on your way. You make this known to the farmer and can’t miss the look of disappointment on his face.

  “Be safe on the way back,” he tells you, describing all the points where the most dangerous traps are. After a moment, he realises there’s no way you can remember all of it and asks for your map, which you hand over. He makes some annotations before passing it back, little pinpricks showing where all the traps are as well as a couple of circles around places nearby.

  “There’s a radio tower over here. Think it might still work. If you’re looking for anyone, that’s going to be the place you want to head to. And mind out for these places,” he taps on the map, “dangerous people round there. Nothing you want to get involved in.”

  You thank him sincerely, but he waves it off.

  “Look. If you don’t find what you’re after, you’re welcome back here. Could always do with an assistant.”

  The idea makes you smile. You think maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad life.

  “Thank you,” you tell him honestly, and he grunts.

  He watches you leave, and when you turn round to wave before you disappear out of his sight, he returns it. You feel a little bit happier, knowing you’ve made a friend in this place.

  END.

  Add Windmill Warden (E.8) to your character sheet.

  Add The Battlefield (Chapter 26, L.26), The Streets (Chapter 28, L.28), and The Radio Tower (Chapter 25, L.25) to map.

  Chapter 24

  The Caravans

  24.1

  You catch up with the caravans with surprising ease. They’ve stopped for the evening and you can see at least a dozen people in animated conversation surrounding a campfire, their wagons secured so they stay in place for the night. There are a couple of those large, orange beasts you’re sure you’ve seen before in other places you’ve visited. One of them stares at you with soulful black eyes before letting out a snort and going back to chewing the grass.

  The group watch as you approach, quiet and nervous until a man stands to address you. From the confidence with which he holds himself, you guess he’s in charge.

  “Good evening, friend. What brings you out this way?”

  He’s middle aged, greying a bit, with a warm smile full of yellow teeth. His friendliness seems to be genuine, but you know better than to trust people on sight.

  “Travelling,” you reply, not wanting to lie but not wanting to reveal too much, either.

  “It’s always nice to have someone new to talk to around here. Will you join us for a meal?”

  There’s a young man at a large-looking pot over the campfire. His stirring slows to a stop as the leader asks you to join them, but when you glance over he goes back to busying himself in his work.

  “That would be very kind of you,” you say, slowly taking a place in the circle round the fire and placing your pack next to your feet.

  Conversation is slow to start up again now you’ve joined the group, but when everyone has adjusted to the fact that you’re there they start to talk to each other again, albeit tentatively. Mostly, they discuss the newest load they’ve picked up for trade, and how their journey has gone so far. Nothing particularly interesting.

  A couple of caravaners still watch you warily. An old woman with a pipe clenched in her wrinkled lips and one grey eye has been staring at you since your arrival. There’s also a group of children who giggle and hide whenever your gaze turns to them. A bowl of thick, steaming soup is pushed into your hands as you wonder who, if anyone, you should engage with.

  Eat quietly – Turn to 24.2.

  * * *

  Talk to the old woman – Turn to 24.3.

  * * *

  Talk to the children – Turn to 24.4.

  * * *

  Talk to the man in charge – Turn to 24.5.

  24.2

  You don’t want to talk, you decide. It’s nice that they’ve offered to share their food with you, but they didn’t ask for anything in exchange. You sit in silence, the only noise you make being the sound of you bl
owing on your soup before popping it in your mouth. Every now and then, the man who invited you to sit with the group glances over as if he wishes you’d be more talkative, but he can’t force you to speak unless you want to.

  The evening draws on and the bowls are gathered. Some people help themselves to seconds while others yawn and retire for the evening. You remain where you are, quietly observing the goings-on. After a while, the man in charge approaches you, the smile still on his face, only this time a little less warmly than when you first talked.

  “We’re going to go to sleep for the evening. You’re welcome to make camp with us if you want. Safety in numbers, and all that.”

  “Thank you,” you say, starting the process of building your tent. The man hesitates, as if he wants to say something else, but decides against it and leaves you to your work.

  You have one eye on your tent and the other on the rest of the camp as you go. The carts and caravans they have packed seem to be incredibly full.

  Who knows what useful items they might have in there? Things that could really help you with your journey. You wonder how easy it would be to have a look through their belongings. Then again, the process would be a lot easier if all of them were… unable to wake up, you suppose.