ALBA

by HL TRUSLOVE

  Her words sink in slowly, like your mind is made of wet cement. You blink a couple of times.

  “Me? But I don’t… I’m just someone who got lost.”

  “Yes, I thought that too. But it’s not my decision.” She crosses her legs with all the gravitas she can muster and says, “So. What do we do now?”

  END.

  Tell Mari you’re going to leave – Go to Chapter 30.

  * * *

  Suggest you help the villagers – Go to Chapter 31.

  * * *

  Leave in the night – Go to Chapter 32. Resolve is your highest stat.

  * * *

  Return to the vault – Go to Chapter 33. Instability is your highest stat.

  * * *

  Build a new future with the local people – Go to Chapter 34. Compassion is your highest stat.

  * * *

  Wipe out the raiders – Go to Chapter 35. Cruelty is your highest stat.

  S.1

  The Seaside Farm

  S.1.1

  It’s a surprisingly hot afternoon. You’re far more used to the onslaught of rain in this strange new land – it’s become a sort of constant companion for you. No matter where you’re going or how long it takes you to get there, the rain is always right there beside you.

  Or, more accurately, on top of you, doing its best to soak through your thick coat and down into your long johns. It isn’t that you enjoy it; in fact, far from it – the moist squelch of water in your footwear has quickly become your least favourite sound. But at least it’s something that you can rely on to keep you company. People may come and go, places on your map may be left behind forever, but at least there will always be the rain.

  You feel a bit lost without it.

  These last few days have been difficult, traversing the open, bleak remains of the Old World. You haven’t found any real leads yet and your patience, and hope, is wearing thin. The effort is beginning to weigh heavy on your soul.

  You find yourself climbing up a small hill under the beating sun. You’re not really equipped for the warmth and you feel like you’re boiling alive. Sweat runs in rivulets down your neck and makes your shirt sticky against your back. It’s a revolting feeling.

  You spy an old oak growing from the apex of the hill in front of you. You force yourself to move quicker in your swampy boots and ignore the extra layer of perspiration that comes with the effort. When you reach the trunk you throw your pack to the ground and flop into the shade, pulling off your coat as fast as you can and discarding it onto the grass.

  After a moment you get your breath back and find the momentum to sit up. The bark of the tree is rough against your sticky back but welcomely solid to lean against. You take in your surroundings while you have such a good vantage point.

  There’s a heavy, grey cloud on the horizon, coming in off of the sea, pregnant with the promise of precipitation. The heat is uncomfortable and you’re wondering if you’d actually enjoy some respite from it within the deluge.

  Then the thought occurs to you.

  You never really looked that far up the coast for Fanon’s group. You just assumed they’d gone inland to get away from the storm. But maybe they’d tried to find a place further along by the sea that wasn’t so badly affected, somewhere that they could still be near the ocean to keep a lookout for ships.

  Somewhere you’d know to look for them.

  You stuff your coat into your already bloated backpack and start off towards the cloud, towards the coast.

  The heat is still ferocious but better now you’re wearing fewer layers, and it takes you a couple of hours to get to the water’s edge on foot. The sea is calm for now and laps at your feet in gentle waves, welcoming you back as an old friend. To the south the shore turns sharply into towering cliffs.

  North it is then, you suppose.

  Unfortunately, the rain never comes as the cloud is blown away by the strong sea breeze, but at least you feel cooler. You walk for the rest of the day, stop and make camp for the evening, then head back on next dawn.

  You’re not sure how long you’ve been travelling when you spot it.

  There’s a building in the distance. It isn’t one you recognise so you’re quite sure you haven’t been here before. Still, it might be a place where the group was hiding out, so best to go and inspect it.

  The closer you get, the more details you can make out. The building itself isn’t anything spectacular, just a squat one-storey metal bungalow and a few wooden shacks surrounded by weathered chain-link. There are two people on guard by a hole in the fence that’s acting as a gate.

  Suddenly, you realise that if your group were here, you’d probably have noticed them by now. Your heart sinks, but it’s still worth asking if they’ve seen anyone in passing.

  Also, you can’t lie – something else has drawn your attention. The most interesting thing is that the fence extends into the sea, cordoning off a section of water. You can see what looks like some kind of buoys out in the ocean, bobbing up and down on the waves.

  You wonder what these people could be guarding. And if it could be valuable.

  You’re getting close to being spotted now. You need to think how best to approach.

  Approach boldly – Turn to S.1.2.

  * * *

  Scope out the building further – Turn to S.1.3.

  * * *

  Approach aggressively – Turn to S.1.4, Needs Sharpshooter, Hand-to-Hand Combat, OR a weapon

  S.1.2

  No point in trying to hide your intentions, you decide. You gather up all your courage and start to walk towards the pair on lookout.

  They don’t notice you for a moment as they’re too busy chatting. They actually seem to be quite relaxed, leaning against the fence and exchanging jokes. One of them has a pipe clamped between his teeth and blows huge billows of grey smoke into the air around him as if he’s trying to mask his face from unwelcome eyes.

  His companion elbows him as they notice you approaching. They stand to attention and, though they don’t ready their spears, they readjust their grips, just in case you’re not friendly.

  “Morning,” calls out the guard with the pipe. His voice is cheerful, welcoming almost. It’s not the sort of greeting you were expecting. You raise your hand in acknowledgement and stop about ten feet away from the pair.

  “You here to trade?” he continues, looking you up and down. “You don’t look like the type we usually get here. No offence.”

  There’s none taken, but you do consider his question for a moment. Are you here to trade?

  Yes, I’m here to trade – Turn to S.1.5.

  * * *

  No, I’m not here to trade – Turn to S.1.6.

  S.1.3

  Best to take a look around before the guards spot you, you decide. There’s no point in causing unnecessary aggravation, and it’s always wise to be ahead of the game. Know the enemy’s soil.

  You hope ‘enemy’ is too strong a word, but it’s good to be cautious... just in case.

  Despite its proximity to the sea, there’s plenty of flora around. It’s easy to hide, skipping from wind-beaten tree to thorny bush as you get closer. The guards don’t notice you. They seem too caught up in their conversation to be doing a very good job of guarding. Their laughs echo along the empty seashore.

  It’s a sound you’re unused to, but it’s nonetheless pleasant to hear, the fact that people can still laugh out here.

  You head back inland a little and take cover on more elevated land, allowing you to get a better look at the site from above.

  As you suspected, the place doesn’t seem to have any signs of your group. There are people dotted around getting on with their work but even from here you can tell none of them are dressed like Fanon or Mari were. They wore overcoats and heavy packs. Most of these people seem to be wearing some sort of green overalls, covered from foot to chest. This starts to make sense as you see a couple of them heading into the water to check something you can’t quite make out.r />
  You watch them for about an hour, hidden safely in the foliage of the coastline. They don’t appear to be doing anything dangerous. Plus, by your count, there’s less than a dozen people down there, hardly a militia.

  It shouldn’t be dangerous for you to approach the little group.

  Approach boldly – Turn to S.1.2.

  * * *

  Approach aggressively – Turn to S.1.4, Needs Sharpshooter, Hand-to-Hand Combat, OR a weapon

  S.1.4

  You grip your weapon in your hands and decide that these people will probably be an easy fight. You head towards them without a second thought.

  The two guards at the makeshift gate seem relaxed until one of them notices you and their eyes go wide. They elbow their companion, who’s smoking heavily on a pipe, and nod towards you. The other guard furrows his brow and grips his spear tightly, bringing it in front of him in defence. You see his eyes flit between your weapons as if he is trying to decide whether he would be able to take you on.

  They seem more surprised than angry at the fact that you’re armed. The guard with the pipe speaks up.

  “You can put yer weapon away, traveller. There’s no need for violence here.”

  You don’t, but listen to his words with mild interest. His knuckles flash white as he rearranges his hold on his spear.

  “We ain’t one of them raider groups. We’re just here to look after the farm. That’s it.”

  His companion finally chimes in. They’ve seemed the most nervous, not looking away from you for a second.

  “We do trade here, traveller. Perhaps you’d prefer just to come in and trade with us?”

  This gives you pause for thought. You could go in and trade with the people here. It would probably be easier. Or you could try to take what they have by force.

  Decide to trade – Turn to S.1.5a.

  * * *

  Decide to attack – Turn to S.1.7.

  S.1.5

  “All right,” you say, “I’ll come and trade.”

  The guards seem pleased with the answer and relax their spears.

  “I ain’t so good with faces. Remind me, you been here before?”

  “No, this is my first time.”

  “All right then,” says the smoking guard, taking his pipe from his mouth and tapping it, letting a fine dusting of ash get blown away by the coastal wind before it can settle on the floor. “Come on, let’s go and find Hamish. He’s the one who’s in charge of this joint.”

  He stands back and gestures for you and the other guard to go in. You have to duck to stop the sharp off-hangs of chain-link from catching on your coat. The guards follow you and the one with the pipe bellows, “Hamish!”

  He goes to call the name again before breaking down into a violent cough. You furrow your brow, wondering why you had to come inside the fence for him to summon this ‘Hamish’ – surely he could have done so just as easily from where he was standing? – when the front door of one of the little wooden shacks is thrown open. A man steps out into the open air, fiddling with the buckle on a pair of long, green overalls.

  “Aye, I’m coming, I’m coming,” he grumbles. He looks at the coughing guard with a mix of concern and umbrage. “I’ve told yer t’ lay off the pipe, Ron. It’s no good fer ye.”

  The guard stands up, waving off his remark with a flap of his hand.

  “Nothing here is good fer me. At least let me have something I enjoy,” he says. “Anyway, this traveller wants to trade with us. Figured you’d be the best one for them to talk to.”

  The man seems to notice you for the first time and smiles a huge, toothy grin. He comes forward with his hand outstretched for a handshake.

  “Good to meet yer, bairn. I’m Hamish. Somehow I ended up as the boss of this farm.”

  You take his hand in your own to return the friendly greeting. It’s calloused and surprisingly warm for someone who lives by the sea. A hand which has no doubt had a life of hard, manual work out here. Yours feels a little lacklustre by comparison. He doesn’t seem to notice your introspection, and takes a step back to get a good look at you.

  “You… don’t tell me yer from one of the vaults?” he says, eyes going wide as your appearance registers.

  Tell him you’re from a vault – Turn to S.1.8.

  * * *

  Keep quiet, insist you’re just here to trade – Turn to S.1.9.

  S.1.5a

  You consider the options. These people don’t seem to want to act aggressively, and it’s much more of a hassle for you to stay up in arms.

  “All right,” you say, putting away your weapon, “I’ll come and trade.”

  The guards seem pleased with the answer and relax their spears. The one without a pipe lets out a breath they didn’t seem to realise they were holding.

  “I ain’t so good with faces. Remind me, you been here before?”

  “No, this is my first time.”

  “All right then,” says the smoking guard, taking his pipe from his mouth and tapping it, letting a fine dusting of ash get blown away by the coastal wind before it can settle on the floor. “Come on, let’s go and find Hamish. He’s the one who’s in charge of this joint.”

  He stands back and gestures for you and the other guard to go in. You have to duck to stop the sharp off-hangs of cut chain-link from catching on your coat. The guards follow you and the one with the pipe bellows, “Hamish!”

  He goes to call the name again before breaking down into a violent cough. You furrow your brow, wondering why you had to come inside the fence for him to summon this ‘Hamish’ – surely he could have done so just as easily from where he was standing? – when the front door of one of the little wooden shacks is thrown open. A man steps out into the open air, fiddling with the buckle on a pair of long, green overalls.

  “Aye, I’m coming, I’m coming,” he grumbles. He looks at the coughing guard with a mix of concern and umbrage. “I’ve told yer t’ lay off the pipe, Ron. It’s no good fer ye.”

  The guard stands up, waving off his remark with a flap of his hand.

  “Nothing here is good fer me. At least let me have something I enjoy,” he says. “Anyway, this traveller wants to trade with us. Figured you’d be the best one for them to talk to. Careful, they’re a bit… jumpy.”

  The guard looks at you and raises his eyebrows. You’re not sure if you would describe someone who came at you with a weapon drawn as ‘jumpy’; it seems a bit of an understatement, but you don’t take offence to it.

  The new man seems to notice you for the first time and smiles a huge, toothy grin. He comes forward with his hand outstretched for a handshake.

  “Good to meet yer, bairn. I’m Hamish. Somehow I ended up as the boss of this farm.”

  You take his hand in your own to return the friendly greeting. It’s calloused and surprisingly warm for someone who lives by the sea. A hand which has no doubt had a life of hard, manual work out here. Yours feels a little lacklustre by comparison. He doesn’t seem to notice your introspection, and instead takes a step back to get a good look at you.

  “You… don’t tell me yer from one of the vaults?” he says, eyes going wide as your appearance registers.

  Tell him you’re from a vault – Turn to S.1.8.

  * * *

  Keep quiet and insist you’re just here to trade – Turn to S.1.9.

  S.1.6

  “Now, come on,” pipes in a new voice, “surely you can’t have come all this way not to take advantage of our bounty!”

  The guards both turn as a man walks towards the hole in the gate. He has a welcoming smile on his face and cheerfully walks up to you, unbothered by your appearance. In fact, he clasps a friendly arm around your shoulders. It’s the most welcoming gesture you’ve felt in a while, even if it comes out of the blue.

  “Ah, Hamish, leave the wean alone,” says the guard with the pipe, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

  “Nonsense, they don’t mind,” the man now known as Hamish says, gently steering you thr
ough the hole in the fence and to the inside of their camp. He seems quite sure your refusal of their offer of trade was because of embarrassment on your end and seems determined to change that. As you walk you feel Hamish’s eyes on you, taking you in.

  “Say,” he begins, “you’re not from one of those overseas vaults, are ye?”

  Tell him you’re from a vault – Turn to S.1.8.

  * * *

  Remain silent – Turn to S.1.12.

  S.1.7

  No, you decide, it’s going to be easier to fight this out.

  Weapon drawn, you leap on the nearest of the two guards, the one without the pipe. They let out a little yelp as they go to the floor with a hard thud.

  The other guard yells in surprise and comes towards you, but you swipe out hard with your right fist and catch him in the soft spot just under his kneecap. With a gasp of pain he falls to the floor, clutching his leg. You turn back to the guard beneath you, ineffectually scrabbling to retrieve their weapon as you bring down your elbow into their face. You feel something snap on impact and you think it must be their nose.