The World We Chose to Keep
Chapter Two - The Stranger
“Do you think it’s dead?” One of the masked figures asked, as he shifted closer to the still body of the Partygoer. He pushed at it with his toe, and flailed slightly when he was abruptly dragged back farther away from the dead body by a teammate.
“Leave it alone,” His teammate hissed, his fingers clawing into his bicep to stop any further attempts at getting closer. “What if it was waiting to ambush us by playing dead?”
“It’s not smart enough to do that Theo,” He retorted back. The figure named Theo, glared back at him not releasing his grip before he sighed, “I’m sorry alright, I won’t go near it again”. Theo gave a sharp nod in response, and released his arm only to thread their hands together using it to tug the man along to follow the rest of their team who had already started moving back down the hall.
They hurried down the narrow maintenance hall, the air hot and metallic, thick with the hum of unseen machinery. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, wires dangling from the ceiling like vines, trailing along the walls into banks of humming transformers. They kept their gaze focused on the surroundings around them, expecting an entity to jump out of the shadows and attack them. There was a large chance that the shriek the Partygoer had let out before it had been shot clean through the head had alerted others of their presence. The corridor twisted left, then right again, as if the architecture itself had been rewired in some senseless pattern. Heat bled from the pipes running at their shoulders, and every breath tasted faintly of dust and electricity.
It felt like it took forever but, finally, they arrived at their destination. A dip in the walls of the corridor, covered by dangling wires, which led into a short hallway containing a multitude of doors. The group headed straight for the third door down on the left, and let out a sigh of relief at seeing their make-shift camp exactly as they had left it.
“Nothing like home”, one of the members said sarcastically, releasing his hand from Theo’s grip as he made straight for one of the large duffel bags in the corner.
“Do you ever shut up, Nathan?” Retorted another, as he made his way to one of the few available chairs in the room.
“Only when I have something in my mouth,” Nathan grins back, taking a bite of the protein bar he’d pulled out of the bag and plopping himself down on a chair.
“Ha ha, you’re so hilarious.” The other responds, which only makes Nathan grin wider.
“Come on Elias, you know that’ll only make him worse,” Altair scoffs. He’s leaning against the closed door and despite his words there is a teasing grin across his face.
Theo makes his way over to him, and spots the neutralising patch on his scent glands. “I was just going to ask if you remembered to put that on,” He comments, “I didn’t see you put it on after we killed that motherfucker.”
Altair’s eyes flicked away, and he adjusted his patch like it had always been there, as Theo squinted at him, “I put it on as we were walking back.”
Nathan, gives him a deadpan stare as he retorts through a mouth full of protein bar, “Great, so if anything was sniffing around, it’s got your perfume up its nose”.
“Relax,” Altair shifts off the wall and goes to sit on the last chair. “The scents neutralised now, the trails dead.”
Nathan makes an understanding sound and takes another bite of his bar, as Theo makes his way over to him. He shifts making space on his lap for Theo to sit. Altair and Elias both pull a face and share a commiserating glance.
“I can’t believe we have to deal with this,” Altair huffs, “it’s nauseating.”
“It’s gross, we’re being subjected to torture.” Elias jokes in return, before pulling out his Nexis, a sleek handheld device. “Stop canoodling you two”, He directs to Theo and Nathan, “we have to debrief and then upload a report to the Nexis.”
“Ugh,” Nathan groans, his head falling forward onto Theo’s shoulder, “not the brick. Can we not rest before having to do more work?”
“Elias is right,” Altair continues acting like he didn’t hear Nathan’s complaint, “we’ve got to let them know the lure trap worked and then make our way back to Level 4.” He pulls a disgusted face, “I hate this level.”
Murmurs of agreement rose amongst the group, specifically from Nathan who started loudly complaining about how the constant buzzing of machinery was driving him crazy. When Elias suddenly stiffened and sat up straight, his head turning towards the door. The sudden movement had everyone quieting when he breathed out, “Do you hear that?”
For a moment they could only hear the low thrum of the machinery that Nathan was complaining about, then their ears caught the sound of a wet, uneven drag echoing down the corridor outside. There was more than one set, the shuffling movement overlapping with another and another and another and another, accompanied by a low chorus of growls and ragged breaths. The sound of nails scraping against concrete, and the metallic clang of something knocking into a pipe.
Theo freezes on Nathan’s lap, his body going rigid, as Nathan wraps an arm around his waist. The latter’s eyes are focused on the door like lasers. Altair taps two fingers on Elias’ leg, the brunette lowering his Nexis and turning his head away from the door to see what the other wanted.
Wretches, he mouths, as the noise fills the hallway beyond. A group of them, Altair continues.
The group stays stock still, holding their breath. The heat of Level 3 presses in around them, as the sound drags by.
The stillness, and the snarling of the pack of Wretches, seems to last forever but eventually it ends. The sounds recede down the corridor being swallowed by the neverending buzz of machinery.
After an eternity, the charged atmosphere dissipates as the group relaxes. Nathan lets out a sigh, tightening his grip on Theo’s waist before releasing him, “Rakael shaf nou, I thought they discovered the gap in the corridor.”
The silence stretches, before Altair stands and starts moving to one of the bags on the table and starts looking through it. “We need to move, and get to the elevator to level 4.” He turns to the others, “We can finish the debrief and send the report to Command from there.”
The statement shocks the others into movement.
Theo hooks his feet into the strap of a duffel bag, dragging it over to him before moving off Nathan’s lap to look through it. “Bandages are intact”, He lets the others know as he thumbs through the neatly wrapped rolls. “Painkillers too. Tourniquet’s still packed, burn gel’s running low.”
He dug deeper, pulling free a slim case of injectors. “We only have three heat and rut suppressants left, and barely any coagulant injectors.” His tone soured. “Better hope nobody bleeds too much or gets stupid.”
Nathan leaned back in his chair with a grin. “Well then, navous it’s a good thing I’m the picture of responsibility.”
Theo shot him a dirty look, but kept going as if he hadn’t spoken. He turned and dug deeper into the duffle, pulling out a flat case and flipping it open. Inside, only a few thin patches and a half-empty spray vial remained. “We’re running low on neutralisers, only two patches, one spray are left.” His voice was grim as he made the announcement and the thrumming tension in the room that had started to disappear after the closer encounter with the Wretches thickened.
“Fuck are we really that low?” Altair stopped what he was doing to peer over Theo’s shoulder, “if we don’t get to Level 4 we’re screwed.”
Elias stood from where he was crouched over the other duffle bags, “We’re okay on food and drinks, they’ll last us for a few weeks. We’re also good with sanitary and hygiene products.”
“We’re low on ammo,” Altair added, moving back to the table that held the duffle bags carrying their weapons. He unzipped one and glanced inside. “We’ve got two spare mags for each Sten, and only a couple for the pistols between all of us, extra knives, two crowbars, a prybar, three smoke pellets, four Molotovs, and one jar of Greek Fire.” He let the words hang before zipping the bag shut again. “That’s it.”
“Yeah,” Nathan raked his fingers through his hair, before pushing himself off the chair and swinging a duffle over his shoulder, “We really have to get back to Level 4.” He snatched a machete from where it leaned against the wall, sliding it back into the sheath strapped tight to his thigh. “You got your batons baby?” Theo tapped his finger against one of the twin batons strapped high on his thighs, with handles angled for an easy draw, and nodded in response to the question.
Following the other two’s example, Altair bent and tugged at the knife strapped to his thigh, then tapped the pistol holstered at his hip. The spear shifted against his back as he straightened.
Elias cinched the strap of his launcher and glanced around at the others. “Quick check. Knife?” He tapped the hilt on his thigh, waiting until each of them answered with the dull thud of steel or leather. “Pistol?” A chorus of nods, holsters patted in turn. “Stens in the packs?” Four curt nods answered him.
“Good,” Elias said. “The last thing we need is finding out someone left theirs behind.”
A moment later they bent to haul the extra duffels from the table, canvas straps creaking in their fists.
“Remember,” Altair warned as they all readied to make their way out of their makeshift camp. “We’re wanderers, not Party Crasher militia.” The other three nod in acknowledgement, and his eyes do a quick scan of the room to make sure they have left nothing behind. “Okay, let’s move.” He turns and grabs the door handle, twisting and slowly inching it open. When he hears nothing out in the corridor beyond he leaves the room, the others filing behind him.
The corridor pressed in around them, a narrow artery of flickering lights and rattling pipes. Their boots scuffed quietly over concrete, every sound swallowed by the drone of machines overhead. The air was hotter here, metallic and damp, the kind that stuck in the back of the throat.
They moved in silence, winding left, then right, toward the elevator that would carry them back to Level 4. Theo kept a tight grip on Nathan’s hand, his baton-free palm twitching at every shadow. Elias’ eyes flicked down to the Nexis once, confirming the direction before tucking it away again.
The corner turned abruptly ahead, wires dangling like vines across the mouth of the hallway. Altair raised a hand, signaling them to slow as they approached, then froze.
Someone was standing in the junction.
A figure leaned against the wall, face hidden behind a scavenged mask of fabric and plastic, breathing quick and shallow. Dark hair clung damply to his temples, too clean to belong to a drifter. His eyes snapped toward them as he startled, pushing off the wall like he’d been caught trespassing.
“Shit,” Nathan muttered under his breath, machete twitching toward his hand.
The stranger’s amber eyes darted between them, wide and uncertain. “I —,” his voice cracked, then steadied, “I don’t know who you are. Don’t come closer.”
“We could say the same to you, buddy.” Nathan responded as Altair stepped toward the stranger, his spear shifting on his back, the movement catching the stranger's attention.
“We’re not going to hurt you, we’re just trying to catch the elevator to Level 4.” He reassured the other, “Are you heading in the same direction?”
“I was…” The man trailed off, gaze flicking past them down the corridor they’d come from. His shoulders tightened, like he was still listening for something. “I was looking for someone. Thought they might’ve come through this level.” He shook his head quickly, as if to dismiss it. “Doesn’t matter.”
Before they could press him, a new sound blended into the hallway, the uneven shuffling rhythm they all recognised too well.
Theo hissed a curse, pulling Nathan closer to his side. Elias glanced back, face tight. “Wretches.”
The growls grew louder, overlapping, a pack closing in.
“Fuck this,” Nathan snapped, already moving.
The stranger’s head whipped toward the noise, fear flashing across his face. “They’ve been—,” His words cut short as the first shadow staggered into view, followed by another and another.
The squad surged forward, the stranger stumbling after them. Pipes hissed overhead, the air narrowing as their boots pounded the corridor. Behind them, the snarling chorus swelled, closer with every second.
“There!” Theo’s shout cut through the panic. A ladder bolted to the wall, metal rungs vanishing into darkness above.
Theo leapt first, hauling himself up two rungs at a time, Nathan right after him. Elias shoved the stranger toward the ladder and barked, “Climb, now!” Altair covered the rear, knife already in hand.
The Wretches rounded the bend just as the stranger scrambled onto the lower rungs, claws raking the concrete beneath. The stink of rot and breathless snarls filled the corridor.
Altair swung onto the ladder last, boots slipping once on the slick rung before finding purchase. He hauled himself upward, the pack snapping at his heels. A claw scraped his bootsole, metal shrieking as one Wretch slammed into the base of the ladder.
“Climb!” Altair barked, “Faster!”
They ascended, rung after rung, lungs burning, until a hatch loomed overhead. Theo shoved it open, the stale air of another level rushing down to meet them. One by one they spilled through, Nathan yanking Elias clear, then Elias dragging the stranger up by the wrist. Altair came up last, slamming the hatch shut as claws scrabbled uselessly below.
For a long moment they lay gasping on the cold road, the sound of the Wretches’ frustration muted but not gone beneath them.
Altair pressed his forehead to the ground, chest heaving. Then he pushed himself upright, blinking at the sudden brightness. His eyes darted to the newcomer who still sat trembling on the road before shifting to take in the new environment they’d ended up in.
“Not Level 4, that’s for sure."
"No shit, Nathan."
Notes:
Chapter One: https://www.tumblr.com/giftfromeden/812132068261806080/the-world-we-chose-to-keep?source=share
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