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Post by Evangeline on Apr 10, 2007 16:33:20 GMT -5
Dawn tagged along after Delfina and Aron, looking up at the stalagmites on the roof of the tunnel.
Inside the vessel chamber, Tess and Joshua picked themselves off the ground and stared at the shattered remains of the crystal column within the cage. If not for the protective barrier, they might have been lacerated by the flying shards.
<<< Gotta go eat... BBL>>>
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Post by ebonyviper on Apr 10, 2007 16:46:02 GMT -5
As Delfina, Aron, Dawn, and Shadow made their way carefully deeper into the cavern, they could hear or feel nothing now. Everything was just as it was before the shockwave, but it was now eerily silent, as if time had stopped, but only for a moment.
Like Aron had said, they were very close to whatever was making the noise and causing the vibrations, as well as whatever caused that shockwave. What would they find in one of the chambers marked with NO ADMITTANCE signs?
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Post by Evangeline on Apr 10, 2007 17:24:32 GMT -5
"It's done," Tess said at last, in a flat, anticlimactic tone. "It appears there's no going back from this."
"Really, Mama?" Joshua hauled out his PDA, which had a wireless connection to the complex's LAN network and the cameras and microphones stationed outside, mounted on stands and hooded against the conditions. He stared at the picture for a moment, eyes intently probing the transmitted images and sounds from each of the stations.
"Mama... it worked. Or something worked. I see stars again. Stars!"
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Post by ebonyviper on Apr 10, 2007 17:29:48 GMT -5
As the little group closed in on the source where all the strange happenings were coming from, Shadow's ears swiveled again, picking up something else. In response, Delfina laid her ear against the side wall and listened for a bit. She could hear... voices? Now who could this far?
But there was one word that she caught floating up to her position.
Stars!
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JustJones
Adult
Tougher than diamonds, rich like cream.
Posts: 178
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Post by JustJones on Apr 10, 2007 17:31:25 GMT -5
All things considered, he should be dead.
How long’s he been like that for?
“You should get over here. His pulse is dropping…”
Seven? Eight?
Seven eight what? Days? Weeks? Months?
Time seems a little bit irrelevant now, don’t you think? Look, he was a mess when we-
“S***, he’s flatlining, he’s flatlining!”
In theory….yeah. It’s a simple solution to a simple enough problem.
The lights are on, but no-one’s home. That old chestnut, is it?
It’s just not that easy. But then again, what isn’t?
“Charge at two hundred…stand cle-“
Get back here.
“I’m giving it another shot. Charging at-”
Is he listening?
Open ears and a closed mind. What else d’ya expect?
“-Put ‘em down. They’re not gonna bring him back now. Just stop. Please.”
Where are you?
“Back off! I’m not going to bury another one. Not today, buddy.”
“And what use is it to keep him alive? Have you even gone through his medical-“
“-That’s not the point. If these are the last days of mankind, we may as well try to go out on an upbeat note. I don’t know about you, but I don’t wanna die working in a morgue.”
“And if they aren’t?”
“We could always do with the extra pair of hands. Sit tight, man. You’re not going anywhere.”
I know you can hear me. No use trying to block me out. I’ll get to you soon enough. You’ll see. And if heaven and earth’s gotta be moved to get you out of there, so be it. Trust us on this...
…In your own time, lad. It’ll all be over soon enough.
“Charging at two-“
You’re finished, Lynch.
“Clear!”
*~*~*
Almost on the dot at 2:42pm, he stirred.
To tilt his head up was painful. To try and stretch himself out from under covers of coarse white linen, even more. But just to breathe…didn’t even bear thinking about. Taking in tentative first breaths, the lungs flared up in response, and he exhaled in a fit of coughing, quiet at first, then becoming more louder, more frequent, more violent by the second. The last cough brought something up from the back of the throat. He spat out into his left hand, now noticing an IV tube needled snugly in the arm, and the end result was the splatter-spray of blood, mucus and tiny, tiny flecks of black inbetween, all in the palm. But for the time, at least, breathing seemed a little bit more easier.
So far, the most of what he made out of his surroundings looked most likely to be some sort of gazebo. Was it still night outside? He craned his head around. Dark olive greens all over, vacant beds, a unoccupied desk, papers, printouts – little flashes of recognition here and there. A small generator motor hummed in the background. To his right was the bedside table. An unboxed jigsaw puzzle. Two hundred pieces. Some joined up perfectly, others connected perfectly with pieces that didn’t even look to be of the same set. It didn’t make sense. Nonetheless, they fitted.
Confusion, hesitance, disbelief slowly swept over. Something’s not right here.
After wiping his hand off on the sheets, he set about ripping off the leads stuck onto his chest. An antiquated ECG machine to his left monotoned out flat alarms, green LEDs blinked and drew perfect screen lines in tandem. He sat up, and leaned against the metal bar headboard. Someone came running in through the flaps, a man, mid-forties. A green v-neck sweater and grey slacks. A touch dishevelled overall. But perhaps the closest thing to a doctor in this place. Perhaps.
Clearing his throat, the man in bed spoke, words accented from the north of England, colloquial, somewhat coarse. “Your turn to surprise me, mate. What happened? Is this the new trend kicking about? Open-air hospitals? Great way to save money on funding, in’t it?”
The older man smiled a little, humouring him, clipboard clutched to his chest. “Well, let’s just start off with the basics, huh? You’ve got quite a nasty touch of concussion, pal.”
“Concussion?”
“And a whole lot more. That ash hasn’t done you any favours. Might have only been a little lungful you must have sucked in, but-“
-Something snagged on the tubes. You panicked. You tried breaking free of the line. You must have tripped, fell-
“-None of us here were holding out much hope for you, especially when you stopped breathing.” The older man paused, and sat down on the bed. “Anyways, as I said before, that’s gonna be the least of your worries. Right now, I wanna see just how bad that concussion is. If you can, tell me how much you can remember before the accident.”
He looked up, almost irritated at the question, clearing his throat with some effort “I might be concussed, but I know for a fact half my f****** brains aren’t falling out of my ears here. I remember everything. I know perfectly well where I was born, how old I am, what I do for a living, and what my bleedin’ name is!”
“And that’s…?”
“Sid. Sidney. Want me to spell it out or summat? Prove to you I’m not a complete spastic?”
“No-one’s diagnosing anything. Relax,” The older man chuckled a bit, before jotting something down on the clipboard. “Welcome back officially to the land of the living, Sidney Crawford.” He said, patting him on the arm. “I’m Doc Scott. You might have seen me around the compound a few times, but I guess this is gonna be our first formal meeting, huh?” Scott offered out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, anyway.”
Still irritated a touch, Sid accepted the shake, another breath in giving way to more coughing. He motioned for Scott to let him have a look at the clipboard, to which he obliged, though not without some trace reluctance. His smile was still intact.
Sid thumbed through the papers. He took in all the various records, data, numbers. Born in Salford, England, in 1972. Eye colour: Blue. Studied and achieved various qualifications in engineering. Dual citizenship. The final page revealed a photo printout. A group shot. Low resolution in quality, blocky and smudged in nature. Various faces. Names. Identities. A mountain vista. An older woman with somewhat sharp facial features. A man – middle aged? A close-to-the-bone skinhead cut. Brown goatee beard and moustache. Blue eyes. Smiling.
Sid’s left hand went up to touch his head, almost as if in some response. There was the short, stubble-hair on top. And there was the beard down below. A short, hot stab of pain arced through his head, intense in its coming, short in its passing. He looked up to face Scott again, confused.
“…Crawford…..yeah. Sounds about right.” The confusion passed, a small smile coming in for the replacement. “Still at ‘Camp Davidian’, are we? The end is still nigh, I take it?” There was a nod, a smile back in response. With equal amounts in effort and pain, Sid tore the IV feed from his arm and rose from bed, clothed in naught but his underwear and a hospital gown. Scott put a gentle hold on his arm in restraint. Sid’s eyes met upon Scott’s, his expression read insistance.
“Sidney, there’s a lot we’ve got to keep tabs on here, you can’t just-“
“-I’m fine. We’ve all got jobs to do. I’m standing, I’m breathing, I’m alive.” A firm hand clasped itself on the doctor’s shoulder. “You’ve done yours. Now let me do mine.” Scott moved to speak, only for Sid to cut straight back in again. “Maintenance engineer. I fix the gears, tighten the nuts, loosen the bolts,” Sid’s smile grew wider “You and me, doctor, we’re almost the same. We keep the wheels turning.”
All Scott could do was to nod slightly and offer a kindly smile. An understanding. Perhaps even…acceptance.
*~*~*
It had taken some degree of learned routefinding, but the conclusion ended up with Sid in his living quarters, caught up in a bout of inspecting himself in a long mirror. His personal locker had some filthy grey overalls in it, but was passed over for wearing instead a two-piece white adidas hooded tracksuit, three red stripes and a pair of white, black and silver Nike Air Max 95s. All things considered, there wasn’t really any need for sartorial guidance or apprehension in this place, or in these times, to say the very least. He was satisfied, that was enough, and within his trouser pocket, his phone started buzzing-
He read the screen. One new answerphone message. He called the number anyway.
“Sid? Sid? I don’t know if you’re going to get this, but you’ve got to get home. Wherever the hell you’ve hidden yourself, it’s not safe, do you hear me? You’ve got to come back, Sid. Do it. Do it for us.”
And at that point, Sidney Crawford’s mind ran into something. Not some amnesiac blank in the head, not some post-traumatic trip-up. It was something. Something else.
Sid ambled out of his quarters, and made his way through the cavern’s tunnels. No sense of knowing your path here. You passed people by. You picked turns at random. You hadn’t a clue of where you were headed. Did it even matter? There was a deep bass throb. And then some booming shockwave. Sid stopped and looked to see where he was. The confusion had seemed to have been lifted. And once again, it all made perfect sense.
In the distance, Sid could see a group up ahead. What where they doing? Some unknown male, a dog, a child, and a girl-
Once again, it all clicked.
“Delfina? What the hell are you doing here?” he spoke.
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Post by Dr Frankenstein on Apr 10, 2007 17:51:00 GMT -5
While working in the server room, Martin noticed webcam packets coming from a system he didn't know the existence, and going to a PDA.
Which sane person would actually do webcam with someone else who is in the same building.... Wait... there's no subnet with the number 157 here... spying? ....Where is this coming from? Outside?
No WAN signal... only LAN... What the.....
He sniffed (technical term for intercepting) and dumped (term for saving data) the signal. Then he looked at it.
STARS?
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Post by ebonyviper on Apr 10, 2007 17:56:39 GMT -5
Delfina quickly spun around upon hearing her name spoken in that surprisingly familiar North England accent. The man standing before her she recognized was Sidney Crawford. But wait. The Sidney she knew was at the brink of death after the caldera exploded, which had plunged the Earth into darkness. Everyone had almost given him up for dead, but she had not given up hope. But here he was alive and well, although a little worse for wear.
"Sid," she breathed, "You're alive..."
(((((OOC: Side note: Delfina's last name is Thompson.)))))
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Post by elizar on Apr 10, 2007 17:58:06 GMT -5
"Stars? Did they actually say stars?!" Aron jumped away from the wall both frightened and surprised. He was taken aback for few seconds, and then it clicked.
"Communications! There has to be some chatter!" He quickly leapted past the newcomer. He knew somewhat where they had come from, so he did have some good sense of directions.
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Post by raine on Apr 10, 2007 17:58:36 GMT -5
((um...is this in the future or somethin'? I'm confuzzled with the setting... ))
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Post by Evangeline on Apr 10, 2007 18:03:41 GMT -5
Dawn looked back at the voice. It was that English guy who always swore a lot and argued with her uncle about it. She had seen him being taken into the infirmary after one of the trips outside, ash around his nose and mouth. Her uncle had said they didn't hold out much hope for him after that, but there he was, alive and on his feet. "Mr. Sid?"
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JustJones
Adult
Tougher than diamonds, rich like cream.
Posts: 178
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Post by JustJones on Apr 10, 2007 18:04:09 GMT -5
Sid acknowledged the child, and turned back to look at Delfina.
"Well, that's one theory." he said, the tiniest of smiles creasing his features. "Whatever's going on down here isn't exactly helping matters much, is it?"
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Post by Insane Pirate Dragon on Apr 10, 2007 18:13:30 GMT -5
A black haired woman looked up, showing interest in her amber eyes of what she was hearing on her mini scanner she had. She tugged at the scarf that was wrapped securely around her neck. But not to guard from the chill, but kept the scars that had taken away her voice out of sight.
Alexis Ross, the local MacGyver techie, finally got up and decided to see what all the hams were trying to and found the jolly little group saying something about stars. She rolled her eyes, they better hadn't be getting hopes up again.
She quickly signed with her gloved hand, covered in microchips and wires. 'What's happening,' The robotic voice spoke through the speaker on her shoulder. "Whats with all the star talk all of a sudden.'
(((Think like the hardware that let the Gorilla in the movie Congo speak.)))
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Post by ebonyviper on Apr 10, 2007 18:19:22 GMT -5
"I don't think so," Delfina replied, "but it sure made quite a shockwave that it knocked the rest of us here off our feet since we were so close. What I want to find out is just what the heck it was."
Shadow, in the meantime, was intently staring into the darkness. She was definately sensing something.
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Post by Evangeline on Apr 10, 2007 18:19:44 GMT -5
Tamara Acheson (nee Hurley) was on watch in the "radio shack", a quaint name for the communications nerve center of the bunker. Off to one side was one of the server rooms, off to the right were an array of TV and computer screens. Before her was an ICOM VR-5000 base receiver/scanner, which she was monitoring through a headset. Having been an emergency dispatcher and 911 operator before the eruption gave Tamara some experience in this field. The rumble and the shockwave had taken her by surprise, almost knocking her out of her chair, but the bigger shock was the voice that pounded her ears with the receiver set at maximum volume. It was a woman's voice, as clear as if the speaker had been right next to her, promising an interview with someone named "Doc Hudson" after a commercial message for a product called "Mood Springs". Well, what in heaven or earth was that?
"Guys, listen!" Tamara hit the switch to transfer the sound feed to the speakers...
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Post by raine on Apr 10, 2007 18:20:01 GMT -5
((.....hello?))
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