Recording 8210-CE-Y: Log 1
[(Set observation to Branch 8210-CE. Begin recording in three… Two… One…)]
It is an unseasonably cold evening in late October. It has been a long and tiring day, even for a seasoned delivery person such as yourself. You’ve pulled your truck up in front of a large gate, barring the way to an equally large beachfront property, to which you are to deliver your final package of the day. The old radio burbles out a tinny rendition of a late nineties song which you only sort of recognize. As you shift the truck into park, you glance at yourself in the rearview mirror which has, yet again, drooped down. Describe yourself.
> Young. For a delivery person such as myself anyway. You can see wrinkles when my eyebrows pop up to greet my reflection, but none framing my dark brown eyes. Light brown oodles of hair air pulled back into a short and high ponytail, a visor strapped around to hold it in place. Most who see me assume I’m either of Afro-Brazilian or Moorish desecent, I consider myself dark-skinned. I’m in the same generic uniform I wear everyday, shorts included. and of course a nice jean jacket to frame my squarish 5'7" figure.
A stiff breeze blows in from the ocean, and through the truck’s door you can feel it raise goosebumps on your bare legs. It also blows against the gate, which creaks open to reveal a long driveway up to the house. It seems almost to beckon to you. What do you do?
> I move from the truck to the driveway, package in tow. The gate doesn’t phase me, wind exists, and I’m currently worried more about dinner.
Your stomach rumbles as you carry the heavy package down to the front door. Why do these people have to live so far out of the way? You get that the beach is nice, but honestly… The wind gusts again as you reach the front door, and in the distance you can hear the ocean kick up spray. You stand, now, before the large, solid front door to the house. What do you do?
> Drop the package, look for that pesky sign sheet. Ah! There it is, I give the doorbell a ring and call out to the recorded reciever
You hear the doorbell echo throughout the house, and you think you hear footsteps from within, but nobody answers the door. You stand for a moment, listening, and you notice a rustle in the curtains next to you. Was that a face? Whatever it was, it’s gone now. You don’t hear any more sounds from inside. What do you do?
> Drop the package, look for that pesky sign sheet. Ah! There it is, I give the doorbell a ring and call out to the recorded reciever
You hear the doorbell echo throughout the house, and you think you hear footsteps from within, but nobody answers the door. You stand for a moment, listening, and you notice a rustle in the curtains next to you. Was that a face? Whatever it was, it’s gone now. You don’t hear any more sounds from inside. What do you do?
> Knock on the door for the principle, and of course check if the curtains are actually moving
After a moment of silence, you again hear movement in the house. You check the curtain for movement, but before you can focus on it the door in front of you opens. Behind it is a girl with her hair dyed a brilliant green. She looks Spanish in descent, but awfully pale. Maybe she doesn’t get out that often? She looks a little younger than you, maybe twenty or so if you had to guess. You blink at each other for a moment before she speaks. “What d'you want?” What do you do?
> “I want to get paid for my job? Not that I have any doubts about getting mt check so long as I… Wait no, uh, excuse that. This is a package delivery… For…” Try to read the name, but gives up immediatly, so as not to waste precious drive home time. “I’m sorry, does this person live here?” Show the reciept to the girl.
She cocks an eyebrow at you before leaning forward to read the name. She blinks at it, then at you, before she crosses her arms and states “I’m Gina del Rio. This for me?” She reaches for the package without waiting for a response. What do you do?
> Without moving, “uh, miss Gina, before you take the package, I’ll need a dignature and also a check of identification for my records. Uh, also this is kinda cumbersome, if you’d like, I can carry the package to a convenient spot for you to open.” I chuckle, unmoving as the package has my hands full.
Gina freezes mid-grasp, looking back inside the house uncertainly. “Um, that’s okay. I’ll grab a pen and stuff, one sec.” She closes the door in your face before you can get a word in edgewise. She’s back before long, though, with a flashed ID (it checks out) and a scribbled signature. She still stands between you and the door. “That all?” What do you do?
> “Carry the package in? Oh! Wait!” I set the package down and grab the sign sheet, double checking it with a nod, “You’re the last stop of the day, it seems you weren’t expecting so please enjoy your surprise,” She gave an uncomfortable feeling in the air, things felt amiss and rushed, but eh, not all the customers ended up friendly. A shells weren’t a new concept.
A nod and a muttered “Thanks.” are all you get before the door slams shut and you are left alone once again, save for a feeling of something unfinished lingering in the air. The wind blows once again, and your stomach grumbles menacingly at you from beneath your jacket. It’s been a long day, and it isn’t even over yet. Even if you start heading back home immediately, there’s still at least half an hour until you can relax. What do you do?
> Move to look into the window, maybe a crack in the curtains
The curtains flutter in place for a moment, but once they settle there is no further obvious movement. A draft, perhaps…? The curtains are drawn, so you can’t see inside the house. What do you do?
> 30 minutes is kind of a wait. Rub stomach, perhaps they have a granola bar or two. knock again.
Silence, for a moment, followed by footsteps. The door cracks open slightly, and Gina’s face watches you from the crack. She looks at you curiously and asks “You forget something?”. What do you do?
> “Hey there, I know it’s a bit late but uh, could I have some food perchance? It’s a bit of a drive home. and I skilped lunch break today haha”
Gina squints at you suspiciously, but seems to decide you probably can’t do much harm. She shrugs. “Yeah, uh, I guess so. One sec.” She recedes back into the house and closes the door. She will probably be a minute. What do you do?
> Look for a place to sit, heck the sign sheet for her signature and perhaps a note on what the package was on the receipt.
Her signature is a little scribbley, as signatures often are, but it could easily be interpreted to say “Gina del Rio”. The package was sent from a company called “Golden Castle Pet Shop”, which you guess is pretty self explanatory. Gina must be a loyal customer if she’s special ordering from them. And, speak of the devil, Gina opens the door again, proffering a box of crackers. “You can have these; I don’t even like them.” What do you do?
> “Ah, so that was a live creature?” I blurt out with a smile, “there wasn’t any holes in the box… Thank you by the way!” I grab the crackers slowly
Gina gives the box an untrusting sniff as she relinquishes the crackers to you and closes the door. You are alone again, and the wind blows a little harder as the sun begins to set. What do you do?
> Look down at the box with concern. Why did she sniff it? With a shrug, reach into the box and begin to snack as I walk back to the truck.
The box Gina sniffed was the one you delivered to her. Perhaps she was checking for the smell of decay? The crackers taste very expensive. They leave a lingering taste of cinnamon in your mouth, which while unexpected isn’t all-together unpleasant. You decide that you like them. As you approach the gate, you notice that it is closed again. What do you do?
> Stand there for a moment. Try to open the gate. Who closed that?
You pull to open the gate. It remains shut. You blink, pull it again. It clanks loudly at you. Your third and fourth attempts, made in rapid succession, yield similar results. The gate simply refuses to open. You stare dumbly at the metal bars for a moment, and are about to make a fifth attempt to open them, when you hear a muttered “God dammit…” from behind you. You whirl around to see Gina approaching you from the house, arms crossed to shield her from the cold breeze. “You can’t get out?” What do you do?
> “Do I need to jump the fence? Is this a cultural thing?”
Gina sighs. “I mean, you can try if you want, but it won’t work.” She hesitates for a moment, pinches the bridge of her nose. “Christ, this sounds fucking stupid, I know, but… You can’t leave. Like, look at the gate. There’s not even a lock.” Turning to inspect the gate, you find that she’s right. The two halves of the gate, while close, aren’t even touching. Gina continues talking unabated. “I thought maybe if you didn’t enter the house, then it wouldn’t take, but fuck me I guess.” She shivers and gestures for you to follow her. “Hey, let’s talk about this inside. It’s freezing out here.” She starts walking without waiting for an answer. “Oh, by the way,” she calls behind her, “what’s your name? I’ll need to introduce you to the others.” What do you do?
> Eye the gate suspiciously. But no jumping. Not today. “Well uh, I mean okay?” turn around to follow, realizing how used to the temperature I am. “My name is Sal! Hmm, how many others are there?”
The gate looms very much in the way any given gate would be expected to. Gina explains that there are two people trapped in the house besides herself, though she’s been here the longest. The house does belong to her, after all. She opens the door, calls out “He’s trapped too, it didn’t work!” A feminine voice echoes down the hall. “Seriously? Dammit.” Two figures round the corner in front of you: a girl, a little younger looking than Gina, and a middle aged man. Gina points to the man “Matthew. He’s a family friend.” and to the girl “Maggie. Neither of us know her.” and then hikes a thumb back at you “Sal. Delivery guy.” She turns to look at you. “We’ll do the whole tour-thing tomorrow, but you can ask any super pressing questions before we crash for the night if you want.” Matthew and Maggie watch you curiously. What do you do?
> “Uh. Hi guys… Nice to meet you…” After a second of contemplation, one detail seems to stick out, “Uhm, if you know people get trapped here, what was the purpose of the delivery? Also, I guess I’d like to know what was in the package?”
After a murmur of hellos from Maggie and Matthew, Gina speaks up. “I ordered this before I realized I was even trapped. And I didn’t know other people couldn’t leave until he” she jerks her head to Matthew “showed up two days ago. It’s fish food, by the way. I special order it, so it takes like a week to get here. But there’s no way I don’t give my boys the good shit.” Matthew nods, adding “When we saw you approach, we took the opportunity to experiment, see how far in one could progress before escape was impossible. Unfortunately for you, it seems that the limit wasn’t the front door, as we had theorized.” What do you do?
> “Ah, well Matthew, I guess it begs to ask, how long did you intend to be here when you were trapped?“
Matthew chuckles a little, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was only going to be here for a few minutes, actually. I came by to ask Gina's parents if they still had the welding set I loaned them a few weeks ago. Gina reported them out of town, so I decided I would return at a later date, but when I tried to open the gate… Well. I’m sure you know the rest.” What do you do?
> “It would be funny if Gina was just grounded or something,” I chuckle nervously, bringing my attention to Maggie, “and, what brought you here miss?”
Gina rolls her eyes as Maggie plays nervously with the hem of her graphic tee. “Um. I, uh. I would rather… Not say… If that’s alright.” After it becomes clear that she isn’t going to continue, Gina answers “Yeah, we asked her that when she showed up yesterday, too. Same answer.” What do you do?
> “Alrighty. Well Gina, are you aware of anything that may have caused this? Anything in the house or something?” I look around curiously.
Gina scoffs. “You think I haven’t been thinking about that for the past,” she does some quick mental counting, “eight days, now? I got fucking shit. Something’s PROBABLY up with the basement, but I can’t get INTO the basement because of the fucking-” she holds up her hands, stops herself, takes a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, sorry for snapping. I know shit’s weird. But, I don’t… None of us have any answers. We’ll show you all that tomorrow. After you have a chance to, uh, process, or whatever. Promise.” What do you do?
> “Well I mean… Ok.” I scratch my head in bemusement, “no worries Gina! It’s fine really,” the idea of sleeping sounded much more attractive, not like I need to drive anymore
> “a house like this has a nice bed, no?”
Maggie, perhaps eager to change the subject after Gina’s outburst, claps her hands together. “Yes! It’s a very nice house.” She looks to Gina. “Will he be upstairs as well?” Gina sighs. “Yeah, there’s one more empty room up there.” She waves a hand at you. “Come on.”
The four of you walk past a large kitchen and through a larger family room, and up a set of stairs leading to a loft. Three rooms branch off, and Gina leads you to one of them in the back. “This is our last empty bedroom. Everything should be made up. It shares a bathroom with Maggie’s, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Knock before you enter, or whatever.” She rubs her forehead, thinking but clearly exhausted. “Uh, are you cool to sleep in what you have, or do you want some pajamas? You can borrow from my dad, if you want. It’ll be a bit loose but it should be okay.” What do you do?
> “Nice place,“ I look around curiously, taking in all the new sights, smell, and sounds with vigor as we make our way up the house. "interesting how there’s just enough room for all of us here haha… I’d love a pair of pajamas, maybe it’ll help me get comfortable? Hopefully I’ll be able to leave by tomorrow, I do have another shift…” and finally a thought came flooding in, “OH! That reminds me, do phones work here??”
Gina leaves to collect some clothes from her father’s wardrobe downstairs. While she’s gone, Matthew answers your question. “Of course we tried getting messages to our friends and family, but nothing seems to get through. It’s strange, though. It’s not as if they’re completely blocked, per se. For example, texts read as ‘sent’, but we’ve never gotten any responses.” Maggie pipes up. “I got a call from a friend of mine, and I could totally answer, and hear her voice even! But when I talked, she acted like she couldn’t hear me. It was bizarre.” Matthew nods, adding “The rule, as best as we can figure, seems to be that we can receive signals just fine, but not send any out. I confess I have no idea how it works, but this seems to be the case.” What do you do?
> “Ah, well how am I going to call in at work tomorrow if I can’t even send a voicemail…” I rub my temples for a second and take a step to my room, “I’ll sleep on it… Thank you guys, I guess we’re all we can count on for now.”
Gina ascends the stairs as you speak, handing you an unfolded pile of comfortable looking shirts and pants. “You should like one of these. Feel free to raid his closet whenever you want, he won’t care.” She pauses. “And you’re right. I’m sorry you got caught up in this, I really am. But, if we’re going to figure a way out of here, I think we have to be able to trust and rely on each other.” Matthew and Maggie both nod in agreeance. Gina clears her throat. “Um, okay. Night, I guess. We’ll show you around in the morning, then get down to business.” What do you do?
> Wave goodnight to everyone and make my way to the bedroom, inspecting it a bit before laying down and beginning a short contemplation, slowly getting more comfortable with the bed, until sleep hits me like a rock. It was a long day at work to be honest.
Your bedroom is high end, if a little plain. You can tell the covers and furniture are probably quite expensive, but there isn’t much in the way of actual decoration. Clearly this was never meant to be used as anything other than a guest room. Though, you suppose you’re technically a guest. Or, close enough, anyway. Eventually you manage to fall asleep in this unrecognized bed, in your unrecognized clothes, surrounded by unrecognized people all trapped in the same unrecognized situation. Needless to say, it’s not the best sleep you’ve ever had. But, it’s still a sleep, and for now, that’s good enough.
END OF DAY 0.