All is Death, Plague and Rot

You wake just before dawn. It was all a bad dream, don't worry. Do you remember who you are? [[A scientist, quiet and mysterious.]] [[A happy librarian, recovering from sorrow.]] [[No, I don't.]]

As your senses adjust, your eyes fall upon two caged rats named William and Thana. You get up and stretch before feeding them and turning on the lights. It's been a long winter, longer than you've noticed from previous years. Five years, that's how long you've lived here. Two years, that's how long it's felt. Funny, how time works inside a mind so ravaged by circumstance and fate. You walk out to what could be considered the "living room" of your quarters, taking your vitamins before looking to the corkboard you keep reminders, confirmations, and the occasional doodle of your rats on. Today, you've been invited to breakfast with someone you'd call your friend, Jaime. It's your turn today to make a sweep of the fields and take rigerous notes. A class of 5 is coming to hear one of your coworkers lecture about your and his work. It's a long winter, you'd better head out now so you can make it through the snow that's accumulated outside the farm, and to the nearby diner on time. [[Take a moment to get a warm drink]] [[No time, you need to go.]]

You don't exist yet! Sorry! [[Try Again.]]

You don't exist yet, do you? Sorry, pal. [[Try Again.]]

You pull a thermos out of a cabinet and start work on brewing some coffee. In the back of your mind, you recall your college days where you insisted that you would never become a coffee addict like your parents. That didn't last long. You've found your favorites, a particular pistachio and fudge flavored variety. This isn't it. This is a cheap brand of just normal coffee. It tastes bad, but it tastes familiar. As the coffee brews, the smell fills the air and summons another one of your co-workers, Kendra. "Mmm, that heavenly scent... Thanks, 'Tia..." She slurred out. The coffee was barely finished brewing before Kendra took the pot and began to fill one of her comically large tumblers, always kept next to the coffeepot, only for her use, or else. It took a little more than half the pot to fill it three-quarters of the way, milk and sugar filled the rest. Despite Kendra being a barely-awake zombie, the amounts were always the same every day. You would know, you've watched her do this about a million times. You use some of what's left to fill your thermos to the top, no need for milk or sugar, then screw on the lid and head towards the door. You don't bother telling Kendra where you're going, you know she won't comprehend human language for another thirty minutes or so. [[Bundle up and head out towards the diner.]]

You walk to the door, putting on your boots and grabbing your thick coat and orange beanie off the coat hanger, then pulling them snug before walking out into the winter landscape. It isn't snowing anymore, but the snow goes up to your ankles. You're lucky, no ice has formed over the snow. The snow crunches satisfyingly under your feet as you walk, and your usual landmarks to reach civilization aren't completely obscured by the snow. The tree with a large enough hole to climb in that somehow hasn't fallen yet. The unreadable wooden sign from long before you came to work here, and will probably somehow persist long after you're gone. The path, lined with chains, leading you to the gates of the farm, tall and imposing to keep any wandering animals out. You almost feel bad for them, it's only nature to eat, but you understand the importance of your work, and how it can't be tainted by forces outside of your control. Though, due to the increasing pushback on your job even existing, it seems most people think your job is all tainted. You will never understand those people. You make it to the diner, almost surprised at how little time it took. [[Take a peek inside]] [[Walk inside]]

You walk to the door, putting on your boots and grabbing your thick coat and orange beanie off the coat hanger, then pulling them snug before walking out into the winter landscape. It isn't snowing anymore, but the snow goes up to your ankles. You're lucky, no ice has formed over the snow. The snow crunches satisfyingly under your feet as you walk, and your usual landmarks to reach civilization aren't completely obscured by the snow. The tree with a large enough hole to climb in that somehow hasn't fallen yet. The unreadable wooden sign from long before you came to work here, and will probably somehow persist long after you're gone. The path, lined with chains, leading you to the gates of the farm, tall and imposing to keep any wandering animals out. You wander down the empty path, taking occasional sips of the coffee to warm your frozen lips. Your tastebuds burn, and your sense of taste lessens, but the bitterness of the cheap coffee still brings back stinging memories of gas station coffee on long road trips, and living in a house that wasn't yours in a place full of people that still felt strangely empty and devoid of any real life. You loved the woman you lived with, or the closest thing to it that anyone there could feel given the circumstance. You still don't fully understand it. You come to a bench, cleared of snow despite there being no sun to melt it and no footprints around it signifying that someone else had cleared it. It is still early in the day. You can afford a rest to take more steady sips of your drink, right? [[Yes.]] [[No.]]

You carefully peer inside the giant windows on the front of the diner, close enough to see but not enough to fog it up with your warm breath. There's a few people scattered around, what seem to be mostly truck drivers getting their morning fill before going for another eight to twelve hours through the weather. A few regulars you don't know the name of sit on barstools, chatting with the waiters. Jaime waits for you in a booth, perusing the menu. You kick the snow off your boots and walk in, letting the warmth seep into your bones for a moment before going to sit across from Jaime. "Hey there sunshine, not often I get here before you." Jaime says with a laugh. It's true, you usually beat him here. "I took the scenic route today." "At these temperatures?" He whistles. "You're gutsy, Katya. What? Did'ja see some interesting roadkill?" "No, the snow's covered everything that might be there." "Well, I ordered us some french toast sticks for an appetizer, 'cuz I know how long it takes you to decide on what you want, even though we come here //every Tuesday//, and have been for, like, the last 5 years." You sigh, looking down to the menu. It's not your fault these little dinky diners have such complex ways of arranging the same few ingredients. Besides, it's the one time a week you get to treat yourself, food-wise, you don't want to make any mistakes. [[Adam and Eve on a raft.]] [[A blue plate special.]] [[Cat's eyes.]] [[A Jayne Mansfield.]] [[Shingles with a shimmy and a shake.]]

You walk inside, the warm light and temperature bringing you both a level of comfort and a strange sense of separation from the other patrons inside. You are not one of the many truckers stopping here out of necessity. You are not one of the regulars, here because of loyalty. You are not Jaime, here for the convenience. Why are you here? Because someone else asked once five years ago and you still follow the one yes you said? You feel like an outsider, always have. You may be physically close to all these people. You may hear their voices and respond back with one of your own, but you are not like them. You never have been. You are strange and unusual, more like an odd creature one would see at the zoo. More like a reclusive woodsman people tell stories about over campfires. More like the draft seeping in through any little crack, seeking warmth but existing in opposition to it. Close the door, you're letting the cold in. You slide into the normal booth, across from Jaime, who smiles at you as you take off your gloves and rub your hands together to dispel any bit of cold that snuck in past the fibers. A waitress comes by and drops off a plate of fresh french toast sticks, along with two little containers of real syrup, setting it between the two of you. "I ordered a little appetizer, 'cuz you always take so long to order. And you worried me, when I got here and you weren't here! I thought you just went and died in the snow!" He laughs a little. You chuckle. That wouldn't happen to //you//, right..? You take a glance down at the menu. What to get? [[Adam and Eve on a raft.]] [[A blue plate special.]] [[Cat's eyes.]] [[A Jayne Mansfield.]] [[Shingles with a shimmy and a shake.]]

You sit down. The bench is surprisingly warm. Comfortable, even. You watch the sun rise, basking in the moment. "Beautiful, isn't it?" A voice nearby asks. You look around. "Jaime?" You call out, getting up and trying to find the source of the noise. The sun's reflection on the snow blinds you. "Here, you're cold, too cold, let's get you somewhere safe." Now that they mention it, you are feeling quite hot. Knowing what you do about hypothermia, you feel concerned. "Follow me, Katya." [[Follow Jaime.]] [[Stay.]] [[Leave.]]

You pass by the bench, not trusting the reality you're seeing. It makes no sense, as far as you know. You keep track of your steps and the way you're going, taking sips of your coffee every ten to twenty steps, it keeps you grounded in a weird way. Keeps your mind from wandering and keeps you on the right path. You come to the diner. [[Take a peek inside]] [[Walk inside]]

You shrug, sitting back and enjoying the view. You feel... Uncomfortably warm now. The sun is blinding and unyielding, reflecting off the snow like a car light in fog. It's disorientating. You itch at your neck, taking off your gloves as you start to sweat. It feels like the sun itself has come down to torture you. Your breathing gets slow and shallow as you take off your coat and set it beside you. It feels like a summer's day on the Equator. You find your hands shaking too much to pry yourself off of the chair to lie in the snow to find some relief. When you slowly look down at them, they look purple and bruised. Looking up again, it's mid-morning already..? It only felt like a few minutes, taking a break... Kendra finds your body within the hour, you look as if you're peacefully sleeping, aside from the purple extremities and paler complexion. [[Try Again.]]

You ignore Jaime, you know your way to the diner, and he knew better than to lead you around. You trust your own intuition more. In no time at all, you make it to town, and see the diner. A sight for sore eyes. You're almost surprised at how little time it took. [[Take a peek inside]] [[Walk inside]]

The sound of Jaime's voice leads you back to the fields of your work, taking a different, but still familiar route. They find your body in the snow the same day, just outside the gates. Your coat, gloves, and beanie strewn about, thrown off by your own hands. There's only one set of footsteps in the snow. [[Try Again.]]

You place your order and wait, taking a couple french toast sticks while Jaime isn't looking. "Hey, you ordered proper this time! Didn't even stutter!" He congratulates you. "It isn't my fault I never grew up by one of these backroad places where you had to learn a new language to order." As you wait for your food, you think about things. What an odd thing to call a dish. It's only toast and poached eggs, why the religious connotation? Or is it simply using the common knowledge to evoke an image? Stories, passed down from person to person, copy to copy, language to language. What changed so much to go from a story about the downfall of man, cast out of paradise due to the human nature of curiosity and trust, to what's just fancier boiled eggs and heated bread? Why do we personify our food in such ways, or boil our stories down to such simplified things? The birth and condemnation of humanity, on your plate. Two eggs on separate pieces of toast. Two people with no other like them clinging to each other for a sense of community. The first biggest fuck-up in all of history. Two poached eggs and buttered toast. Your plate arrives, with a ketchup bottle. You draw little smiley faces on the eggs to make yourself feel better about the name. It doesn't do much, but at least it tastes good. Poached eggs were always your favorite. [[Look to Jaime.]]

You place your order and wait, taking a couple french toast sticks while Jaime isn't looking. "Hey, you ordered proper this time! Didn't even stutter!" He congratulates you. "It isn't my fault I never grew up by one of these backroad places where you had to learn a new language to order." As you wait for your food, you think about things. A blue plate special, an ever-changing item to get rid of stock by selling it for cheap. A manager's special. You can't help but think of the possible connection to blue-collar workers. You're no etymologist, but it only makes sense. Usually seen as lesser-paying work despite how essential it is. A full meal, to sustain those who build and sustain our world, at a cheaper cost so they don't go hungry. A kindness, or a condemnation? What are you? You think of yourself as necessary in the field you're in as a whole, but everyone likes to feel needed. How to you tell the difference between the want to be needed and the actual feeling of being needed? Are you needed? Many of the protesters would say otherwise. Those who spit in your face, call you an unfeeling monster, some kind of sicko for doing what you do. But many others, the crime solvers, the cleaners, the students, and coroners thank you and your collegues. It's a strange situation. Your food arrives, a plate of corned beef hash with toast, sausage links, scrambled eggs, and a bottle of ketchup. You squirt some ketchup on the eggs and mix it together before spreading it on the toast like your father used to. You remember what he used to say to you. Never judge a man by his occupation. A proud sewage plant technician, he could often relate to you in wanting something unwanted and unconventional. The meal is hearty and warm, and was a pretty good price for the amount of food. The plate was even blue. How funny. [[Look to Jaime.]]

You place your order and wait, taking a couple french toast sticks while Jaime isn't looking. "Hey, you ordered proper this time! Didn't even stutter!" He congratulates you. "It isn't my fault I never grew up by one of these backroad places where you had to learn a new language to order." As you wait for your food, you think about things. Why do people give these foods such odd names? What about tapioca pudding, which looks more like milky frogspawn than anything, would make someone want to name it after a cat's eye? The gemstone? You can see that. A marble? Sure. Tapioca pudding? Not at all. Human pattern recognition can be such a strange thing sometimes. Taking something and, by virtue of a vague resemblance, turning it into something else. Sometimes you wonder if that's how you came to be. Your odd, harmless mannerisms and interests turned into something disturbing and twisted. Your plain expression warped into jeering. Your human form made into something not your own to have and be, but for something for others to look and judge like a cut of meat on a hook. Your tapioca pudding comes, sat next to it a small bowl of brown sugar. The dish is creamy, thick, and sweet. You like the added crunch the brown sugar brings. This isnt a cat's eyes. This isn't frogspawn. This is a warm comfort food for a cold day. Nothing more, nothing less. [[Look to Jaime.]]

You place your order and wait, taking a couple french toast sticks while Jaime isn't looking. "Hey, you ordered proper this time! Didn't even stutter!" He congratulates you. "It isn't my fault I never grew up by one of these backroad places where you had to learn a new language to order." As you wait for your food, you think about things. You don't know much about who this dish is named after, but you wonder why. Were they known for making this dish? Loving this dish? Is that what legacy is, a tall stack of pancakes with a human name? From what you can gather, most don't put the amount of thought into common names as you do, so do most realize that this was probably a real person? A human being who was born, lived, and probably died, and all we're left with is a strange variation on bread covered in butter and syrup. Is that what they wanted? Is that what anyone would want? Everything boiled down to one dish? It made sense, in a way. When someone looks at a pancake, they don't think of the flour and eggs and sugar, they only see the golden brown exterior and drown it all in butter or jam or syrup or whatever their heart desired. When someone looks at a person, most likely some sort of celebrity, they don't see the sadness and the fear, the traumas, the joy, the struggle, the knowledge and experience. All they see is the persona. Even you have one, built from everything said before. Your mind is a playground and your persona is the dome shielding it from the scalding sun. A much needed shade in the middle of July. Your food arrives, a tall stack of four pancakes that you split with Jaime, who seems to have a bottomless stomach. He covers it in strawberry and grape jam. You use butter and a small bit of syrup on the side to dip pieces in. As you eat, you decide that, even if the pancakes were this good, you wouldn't want to be remembered for only that. [[Look to Jaime.]]

You place your order and wait, taking a couple french toast sticks while Jaime isn't looking. "Hey, you ordered proper this time! Didn't even stutter!" He congratulates you. "It isn't my fault I never grew up by one of these backroad places where you had to learn a new language to order." As you wait for your food, you think about things. Why do people give food such complicated names? This doesn't even make sense. It's toast with butter and jam. Shingles as a metaphor for toast, sure, but shimmy? Shake? It's absurd, the way people think this is normal and expect you to find it normal just because nobody else along the way seemed to question it. It must've made sense, some time ago, but it no longer does. So why keep it in place? //"Because that's just the way things are."// You've heard that one a million times. People hate when you ask questions like that. It makes them flustered and angry. People hate not knowing things, especially when they're supposed to hold authority over you. This got you into trouble quite a lot in school and church, the limited amount of time you did go to church. You couldn't help your curious mind, but according to others, seven year old you could've helped your unthinking mouth. You're careful about what you say and ask now. It's a matter of social survival, and human beings are very social creatures. Your food comes, four slices of perfectly toasted toast with a few pads of butter and tiny containers of jelly and jam. The owner must've come in with some homemade jelly and jam today, aren't you lucky. It's good. Simple, but good. If only names could be similar... [[Look to Jaime.]]

"Y'like it?" He asks as you eat. "Still as terribly good as ever." "You're so pessimistic about the little things, you know that?" You know he says this in jest, but it's the best way you could put it. All of the food, so simple yet indulgent, terrible for you if you went here too often, but a nice once-a-week treat. Even that might be too much. But what are you, Catholic? This isn't going to ruin your life, it's just a slightly less healthy food once a week. Who cares? It makes you happy. "I'll pay this time." He says. You don't argue, you know you'll lose, just like every other time. You just nod, finishing up your food. "You want a ride back? It's cold out, and it'll be a long walk for you." [["Sure."]] [["I'm good, thanks."]]

You walk out with Jaime after he pays, sliding into the passanger's seat of his old truck. //"Old, but battle-hardened"//, he calls it. He brings the engine to roaring life and turns on the radio, already set to a station playing old rock hits. "You're very consistant." You say as he speeds off down the snowy roads, the smooth white tainted with texture and grime from other's tires. "Yeah? What brought that up?" He asks. "I knew what kind of music would be on. I knew you would comment on how long I take to order. I knew you'd offer to pay, and that I wouldn't be able to fight it." He laughs and shrugs. "Hey, what can I say? Humans like routine and consistancy. Especially this human right here, and that human right there." He points to himself, then you. There's something strange about being called human. It doesn't exactly feel correct. You can't tell if it's because of a genuine disconnect between you and the rest of humankind, the way people have treated you throughout your life, or a mix of both. Most likely a mix of both. "It's why we get along so well. We know what the other is going to do, and that brings comfort." You say. "Well, not //always//. I thought you were gonna say no to my offer of me driving you back." "I figured it was safer this way." You say, glancing out the window. Something strange lies just up ahead, a person in a black cloak. You can't quite make out their expression or any defining features. Strange. Nobody unfamiliar should be out here. Then they step into the road. [[Brace for impact.]] [[Warn Jaime.]]

Despite Jaime's protests, you decline. You've been through this song and dance before, just as you can't convince him to let you pay, or at least split the bill, he can't convince you to let him drive you back to work. You watch him leave with a wave as you're faced with a difficult desicion. Do you get a drink for the road? [[It's cold and you need the caffine.]] [[You'll survive without it.]]

You brace for impact, closing your eyes and tensing. "... What's the matter, Katya?" Jaime asks. You slowly open your eyes again. Nothing's happened. You look around, confused. "I swear, I just saw someone in the road..." Jaime briefly glances at you with a look of pity. "Oh, Katya... We're almost there, it's okay." And nothing more is said on the matter. You sit back uncomfortably, anxiously silent until he stops at the gates. "Well, we're here." He says. You open the door and start to hop out. "And, uh, Katya?" You look back. "... Take care of yourself, please." You don't know what to say, so you just nod and close the door. He nods back and waves at you through the window before turning around and heading off, disappearing into the horizon. You turn back to the gates. [[Head inside. It's getting cold, and you have work to do.]]

You yell something to warn Jaime of the person in the road. It was loud, far too loud. You startled him, and he swerves. Your co-workers find your bodies two minutes later, but the paramedics are too late to save you. You're wedged between the crushed-in door and the tree with the hole big enough to climb into. It finally came down, right on top of the both of you. [[Try Again.]]

You head back inside. Kendra and another one of your collegues, Gary, sit at the small table in the living quarters, drinking some coffee. You look, and the pot is empty, so you start to make more. "You're back." Gary comments. "Did you think I wasn't going to be?" You ask "... Well... You're just concerning us, always going out without telling us where you're going, especially with your past, Dr. Sc-" "Gary, cut it out. I don't want to hear you two arguing this early in the morning." Kendra mumbles. "... You... Worry about me? I thought my weekly schedule was repetitive enough for you all to just //know// where I am at all times..." "Of course we worry about you, but you're an adult, you can take care of yourself." Kendra says after swallowing another gulp of coffee. This is certainly news to you. Not to say that you never knew they //cared//, but... Well... "She- Dr. Kamil, you honestly can't-" "Gary, stop being so formal. We're all basically roommates here. I know you're new and all, but you don't need to call us by our last names." Gary pauses for a moment, uncomfortable, before getting up and walking to you. "... Katya, look, we'd at least... Appreciate if you told us where you were going, or left a note, or //something//. We can't have our only mycologist just... Up and disappearing on us!" You take a glance to Kendra, who just nods and shrugs. You turn around to get a cup of coffee, uncomfortable with making eye contact right now. "Look, I know you think you're-" "Gary. Drop it." Kendra hissed before Gary could get any further. "But-" "We'll talk about it //later//." [[Pick up your clipboard of notes and walk out.]] [[Grab your clipboard of notes and rush out.]]

The coffee here is much better than at work. Besides, it's Tuesday. You should treat yourself. You order one black coffee to-go and wait. It doesn't take long for them to deliver. You pay, they wish you well, and you leave. As you sip the coffee, it reminds you of home. Your first home, with your parents. Your mother was a coffee snob who, cruelly, worked as a barista at a chain cafe. Daily rants about people's orders, new gimmick drinks, and how popular the place was despite it's poor quality. If she saw what you were drinking on a daily basis, she would have a fit. Luckily, she's cooled off somewhat in her old age. You don't talk much with your parents anymore. Not because of any falling out, but... You live across the country from them, and everyone's schedules conflict. You try to make it for the holidays sometimes. You try. This coffee tastes good. It's what someone who cared for you made once. Someone you never thought you'd miss, because you were already prepared for any sudden deaths. Sometimes them being alive and alone without you makes you feel worse. You pace the sips in time with your steps. Every twenty or so. You want to make this last. You look around at the landscape and breifly see someone in a t-shirt and shorts run off into the woods. [[Whoever they are, they need help. Follow them.]] [[Look down and try to follow their footprints.]]

You contemplate for a moment before shrugging and heading out on your own without a drink. You can just make a pot back at work. You wander down the snowy path, retracing your steps and thinking about work. It's your usual routine, you traded duties today so you wouldn't have to give a lecture to any students. You don't mind sweeping the fields anyways, though this time of year is particularly boring for it, with the cold keeping things about the same every day. Though, the small-scale recreation of the local lakes and their ecosystems stay interesting no matter what season it is. Not as interesting to you as wet mushroom season, but still interesting. It doesn't feel like it takes that much time at all to get back. You stand at the gates, almost expecting more notes about how your job is disgusting and immoral. But the gates are as barren as the snowy landscape around you. [[Head inside. It's cold, and you have work to do.]]

You rush to follow, calling out to get their attention. You drop your coffee in the rush. Despite your best efforts, you lose them quickly as they dart between the trees. You call out a few more times before giving up. In your effort to follow, it seems you've gotten lost yourself. Lucky you can follow your own footprints. You look back, and there's several. Three pairs, exactly. Which do you follow back to the path? [[The long-footed ones leading to the left.]] [[The short-footed ones leading to the right.]] [[The trail of snow pushed forward that doesn't look like footprints at all.]]

You look down, and... There are no footprints. Only yours. You look back up, and there's no trace of the person. Whoever- whatever- if they are, they certainly couldn't be found by you now anyways. Maybe you'll mention it to your collegues. They probably won't believe you. You're at the gates now, anyways. Time to get to work. [[Head inside. It's cold, and you have work to do.]]

You follow the longer footprints, looking back every now and again, feeling as if you're being watched. It's a strange feeling. You're in the middle of the woods, dead of winter, middle of nowhere. Nobody //should// be watching you, but... Can you trust your gut feeling? [[Yes. You can.]] [[No. You can't.]]

You start to follow the short-footed trail, thinking about all the things you need to do, and how this will make you late. Your co-workers will be unhappy. Concerned, perhaps. But you will survive. You'll move past this, you'll think twice before trying to help any... Mysterious people in the woods. Thinking about it now makes you regret your decision. How will you explain your reasoning? Your concern for something outside of yourself now seemed strange and like a type of self-harm. Who knows what could've happened to you if it was some kind of setup? You could've been kidnapped, another name and face on the back of the milk cartons. It's getting hard to think. It's getting warm, but it quickly turns hot. It feels like you're roasting over and open fire. Your body is found a day later, frozen in the snow. [[Try Again.]]

You were just clumsily running through snow, it only makes sense that your footprints would look like that. You walk through the forest, careful to keep your eyes down so you don't lose your way. After what seems like too long of trudging through the snow, you come back to the gates. You look down at your spilled coffee with a frown, but pick up the empty cup and lid. You're not one to litter. [[Head inside. You're cold, and you have work to do.]]

You walk inside, still shivering. Your co-worker, Gary, is waiting for you, anxiously staring from the table. When you get inside, he immediately gets up and speed-walks over. "Where //were// you??" "At the diner, I've been going out every Tuesday morning since before you started working here." "Yes, but- you never stay out that late! I thought you- I thought you //died// or something! I tried to get Kendra to come out and look for you with me, but she just laughed me off, I don't get how she can be so un-concerned for you, especially after what happened that one time you-" You cut him off with a look. You don't want to talk about that. "... Look, all I'm saying is, you worry me, Dr.-" "Just call me Katya." "... All I'm saying is, you worry me. I-I don't know what's going on inside your brain, I'm no psych major, but it's just... This can't be good for you. You barely sleep, I barely see you eat, you don't //talk// to anyone, not really, you're either working or holed up with your rats." "And?" You've survived like that for this long. You can survive longer. "... And? //And?// Katya, humans- we can't live like that! I mean, even Kendra still has friends outside, I talk to my family and friends all the time, even out here, and you? You have us- who you don't talk to unless you're forced to, and some mystery guy once a week. And- I know this might seem rude, but, I think it's taking a toll on you. I don't blame you! It would drive me a little insane to-" You start to walk away. "Wh- hey! Katya! //Katya!// We need to talk about this! You're important to this team, and-" [[Grab your clipboard of notes and rush out.]]

You try to put the situation out of your mind and head inside. Kendra sits at the table, still as much of a zombie as she was when you left. You take off your jacket and take the last of the coffee out of the pot before starting to brew another. You sit at the table, a little disturbed. You want to ask Kendra a question, but you know she won't be able to answer until later. You stare at her for a few seconds before getting up and going back to your room to see your rats and mentally prepare for the day. William and Thana are happy to see you, jumping up and squeaking excitedly in their cage. You set your coffee down, opening the cage and lifting them out before sitting on your bed and setting them on your lap. You pet them, smiling as they run around in circles and crawl all over you. Unfortunately, this can't last forever, you have a job to do, and it's best to get it done now, before any students come and pester you with questions. You hate answering questions. You gently pick William and Thana back up and place them in their cage again, refilling their water and placing a few drops of the vitamins they need into the water before reattaching it to their cage. [[Pick up your clipboard of notes and walk out.]]

You continue to check around you as you walk, so it takes you a while to realize you've lost the trail of footprints entirely. You stare down at the ground, then frantically search for the footprints again. Only yours behind you are here. You suppose you just have to follow yours back again, and try again. So, you start walking. To pass the time, you think. But, your thoughts become slower, like a dripping faucet, you wait with an agonizing anticipation as the water slowly grows at the end of the spout, and when the water droplet finally hits the bottom of the sink, you can think clearly for just a moment. The cold is getting to you. You grab the beanie on top of your head, focusing on the sound of the fabric of your gloves and the fabric of the beanie rubbing together to keep yourself in the moment and not panicking as much. It's harder to keep your eyes open, every time you blink it feels like your eyelids threaten to freeze shut. Your body is found an hour later, laid peacefully in the snow as if you had just fallen asleep. [[Try Again.]]

You stop to reconsider this journey, questioning your sense of reality again and trying to find something to ground yourself. You pull out your phone, a rather old, but hardy flip-phone. Luckily it can take pictures. Out of the grainy and pixelated screen, you can see that there are no footprints that you are following. You take a moment to ponder this wild goose chase before starting to head back. This was a bad idea from the start. The idea of it is terrifying, but you don't have time to think about that. You try to walk quickly, but the cold is getting to you. You hug yourself to preserve any body heat you have. You make it back to where you started, and find only one path. [[The trail of snow pushed forward that doesn't look like footprints at all.]]

You go to pick up your clipboard, and walk out. You have work to do. You give a short wave to your coworkers and leave. You need to sweep the fields and write thoroughly about any differences you notice, and that's what you'll do. So, you stop by all the sectors. No changes for the most part, due to the weather keeping anything from rotting. It doesn't smell as bad as usual, which doesn't matter much to you. Working on a body farm for five years will desensitize your nose like that. The lake replicas are interesting, at least, the bodies have bloated a great deal more, and the snails added to subject one-T (a whole pig with gunshot wounds) seemed to do quite a number on it despite the freezing temperatures. Gary will be happy about that, at least, he had a bet going with Kendra. You think about you coworkers. They care about you as much as humans should care about others. You care for them the same. You feel like they feel as if you're not attentive enough- not to your work, but to yourself. You don't understand it. You think of yourself as quite introspective, lost inside your own head, even. You make sure to take your vitamins, eat and drink when you need to, and sleep when your body tells you to. You sigh, moving on. It feels like it takes almost no time at all to get the work done. The only question is, what to do now? [[Go back to your room.]] [[Go back to the diner.]]

You grab your clipboard and jacket and brush your way past Gary to make it out the door. He doesn't follow. You need to sweep the fields and write thoroughly about any differences you notice, and that's what you'll do. So, you stop by all the sectors. No changes for the most part, due to the weather keeping anything from rotting. It doesn't smell as bad as usual, which doesn't matter much to you. Working on a body farm for five years will desensitize your nose like that. The lake replicas are interesting, at least, the bodies have bloated a great deal more, and the snails added to subject one-T (a whole pig with gunshot wounds) seemed to do quite a number on it despite the freezing temperatures. Gary will be happy about that, at least, he had a bet going with Kendra. You feel terrible for brushing him off like that, but you can't help but feel... [[Like he's right.]] [[Like he's wrong.]]

As much as you hate to admit it, Gary is right. You aren't okay, and you haven't been okay in a long time. Even before you disappeared three years ago, you weren't okay. Not entirely. After your disappearance, things only got worse. Before, reality was... malleable, at best. Now, you aren't sure what you can trust or who you can believe. Can you even believe yourself? Nobody else around here went through what you did, at least, as far as you know. But, to admit that it did happen? You've heard what happens in psychiatric hospitals around here. You don't ever want to be a patient. You don't want to be a statistic. You finish up your work pretty quickly, you've always been good at thorough note-taking. What now? [[Go back to your room.]] [[Go apologize to Gary.]] [[Go back to the diner. You need to think.]]

You feel like he's wrong. You've done fine for yourself so far. Sure, a few years ago, things got... Bad. Nobody would believe you if you told them what happened, so you've told them you had no idea you were missing for three months. There have been cases of that before, someone goes for a walk and disappears for months on end, only to come back and think they were only on a short walk. You wonder if they were in a similar situation to you. Were they lying as well, because the truth was stranger than fiction? You've been recovering. You're fine. It's okay. You finish up your work. What to do now? [[Go back to your room.]] [[Go back to the diner.]]

You finish up before heading back to your room, briefly catching a glimpse of Kendra lecturing and showing the group of students around. You hang your jacket and beanie up before walking calmly into your room and closing the door behind you. You need some time by yourself right now. You sit on your bed and think about the day's events. There's a knock at your door. [[Answer it.]] [[Don't.]]

You drop your clipboard off, silently, before starting to walk back to the diner. Halfway through your journey, it starts to snow again. It's a light snow, thankfully. It's quite beautiful, really. You can't help but repeat the one-sided argument in your head over and over again. You take deep breaths, but even the stinging of the cold air entering your lungs couldn't distract you from your perdicament. You make it to the diner soon enough, walking inside and sitting at your usual table, where you and Jaime usually sit. You sit, deep in thought, until a waitress comes and hands you a menu. You only order a coffee, you're not in the mood for food. A suave man walks up to you. //"May I sit?"// [["Go ahead."]] [["Who are you?"]]

You head back inside, hanging up your coat and beanie before heading to the living quarters. Gary is washing dishes. You always hated that job, but Gary seems to love it. "... Hey." He breifly glances over when you say something, a little surprised. "... Hey. Do you want some food or something? I was about to make something, but, uh, I haven't decided what yet." Your stomach suddenly remembers that you haven't eaten enough at the mention of food, but that's not why you're here. "That can wait. Gary... I'm sorry for brushing off your concerns. I understand your point of view, and I will try to make sure you're less worried about me in the future." You say. Gary stops what he's doing, turns off the water, and looks to you. He's looking at you a little funny. He was always known for wearing his heart on his sleeve. "Dr.- Katya, it's not- I don't know how to explain this, um... Gee, I don't want to sound rude..." "Just say it." "... I think you need, um... Lots of therapy. Just- please don't take this the wrong way, but-" "No. You're right." You say before he can spiral. "What?" "I've known it for a long time." [["I've just never known where to start."]] [["I've just always been afraid."]]

You drop your clipboard off, silently, and leave a note on the door as to where you're going before starting to walk back to the diner. Halfway through your journey, it starts to snow again. It's a light snow, thankfully. It's quite beautiful, really. You can't stop thinking about your experiences. What Gary said. How disconnected and... Unwell you feel. You do need help, you really do. But you're not sure where to start. Not sure at all. You come to the diner, and step inside, sitting in the booth you and Jaime usually sit in. You're lost in thought as the waitress brings you a menu, you numbly order a coffee. You can't imagine eating right now. You're so lost in throught that you barely notice when a suave man walks up to you and sits across from you. //"Penny for your thoughts?"// He says as he flips a coin. It lands on heads, right in front of you. [["No thanks, I'm not interested."]] [["Excuse me, who are you?"]]

The man sits across from you, smiling. "Why thank you. I'm new here myself, trying to meet some of the locals. What's your name?" [["Katya."]] [["Jeri."]]

He laughs a little, sitting down across from you. "My name is Gerald Bernad, MD. I'm new in town, and I like to get to know the locals of the places I live. What's your name?" [["Katya."]] [["Jeri."]]

He frowns, placing a hand on the table and towering over you, even as he sits across from you. "Little Miss, I'm not tryin' to sell you nothin'." He says, his deep southern accent coated with what's supposed to be some kind of charm. Your frown deepens and your nose crinkles in disgust at him calling you "Little Miss". "I'm new in town, and I'm lookin' to meet the locals. You look troubled, miss, what's on your mind?" He sits across from you, seeming to stare deep into your very soul. His light blue eyes are peircing- disturbing, even. [[Tell him everything.]] [[Go silent and stare back.]]

He sits across from you, forcing out a chuckle. "My name is Gerald Bernad, MD. I'm new in town. I'm a simple man, I like to get to know the locals of the places I live. You looked troubled, and I thought perhaps I could lighten the load for you." He pushes the coin closer to you. "So, penny for your thoughts?" He asks, staring at you. [[Go silent and stare back.]] [[Tell him something disturbing.]]

Your co-worker, Gary, is standing there at your door, in more casual clothing. "H-Hey, Dr. Scremredy..." "Hey." Of all your co-workers... The two you have, he seems like he cares the most. Both about the work and other people. It's a hard balance to strike, you've found. "We've been noticing... Something's up with you, lately. It's just... I mean... Gosh, I don't know how to say this... Kendra doesn't want to get into any of your business, and- and don't be mad at her, 'cuz I understand! It's just- I don't know if you, um, see it from our point of view? Like, what you're doing might seem, uh, reasonable for yourself, but, um, we're just-" [["No. You're right."]] [[Stay silent.]]

You don't answer. You stay there, lying back on your bed. You stay there for a long time. You don't know what time it is. You hear another knock at your door. [[Answer it.]] [[You won't.]]

You don't answer. You watch the sun set through your cracked blinds. You feed your rats. You lay back down, trying to think. Not many thoughts come to you, but you can't sleep. It's dark. You sneak out to the living quarters and make some toast with peanut butter and a bit of brown sugar. Not the healthiest, but it'll do. You go back to your room. You toss. You turn. You fall into a restless sleep, having nightmares again. But, you survive. [[Try Again?]]

You've survived today, but who are you tomorrow? Do you know? [[A scientist, quiet and mysterious.]] [[A happy librarian, recovering from sorrow.]] [[No, I don't.]]

Gary nods, understanding. "Yeah, I-I remember when I first went to therapy, it was... A lot, man... I had my parents there to help me set everything up, but even then..." He chuckles. "I- I mean, I can help you, though! I know some good guys, they can do over video too, so you don't even have to go anywhere! You can just chat on your... Do you even have a phone..?" You sheepishly pull out your flip-phone. "... Laptop, then, maybe..?" You give a wary smile. You've never been big on technology like that. You //have// a laptop, but you haven't used it in... God, ages. You can't remember. "... We can work on that later, I'm just... Glad you're accepting help. Here, let me make some lunch. I can grill a mean cheese." He says with a goofy smile. You sit at the table, watching him work. [[Have a nice meal with your friend.]]

"Afraid..? Afraid of what?" Gary asks. You stay silent for a long time, unsure of how to answer. "... Being sent to a psyche ward, I suppose. Even in my own head, I sound... Insane, sometimes. I've had friends- back way when, they've been, and... God, the abuse of power, the white walls, claustrophobia, I don't think I would do well there, Gary. I don't. I've read the papers about what happens between those walls. I think being a patient would make me worse than I already am." "Hey, look, Katya, unless you're a danger to yourself or others, they can't send you there without your consent. I mean, even when I //was// a danger to myself, my therapist managed to talk me down, and- man... It was life-changing. While I don't think we have the same... Uh, issues..? I guess, I dunno, but I still think therapy would help you a lot." You think over this before nodding, sitting down. "Look, I can help you set up tomorrow, or this weekend, maybe tonight, whenever you have time! I know some good ones who do over video! So you can take... Whatever technology you have, I can help you set it up, and, uh, yeah!" He watches for your reaction, so you nod again, not saying anything. "Uh- here, let me make lunch... Chicken sandwiches sound good?" You nod again, you like Gary's cooking. For someone who's all about how things rot, he sure does cook well. It takes a little while, but you know it will be worth it. Soon, he places a seasoned chicken breast sandwiched between two slices of bread in front of you. You take a bite. It was worth it. [[Have a nice meal with a friend.]]

Kendra gets about halfway through her sandwich before she looks back up at you. "Y'know, Katya, you're awful talkative this afternoon." You shrug, unsure of what to say. "Just feel like talking, I suppose." Kendra chuckles a little. "It's weird. But your voice is nice, you should keep it up." You let out a laugh. This feels nice. Maybe you should. "Hey, I was thinking we could go to that new restauraunt in town this Friday? Uh- the barking dog?" "They still open restaurants up here? And in the dead of winter too? They're either really bold, or really stupid." Kendra says. You laugh. [[Today is nice.]]

Everything feels nice. Something you haven't felt in a long, long while. Community. Not even when you were in that place- some sort of soulless recreation of a close neighborhood where you and others were stuck but didn't know it, where you met that woman again- what was her name? She dressed your wounds, she helped you recover, she fought through your low days, and even made you some of the worst coffee you've ever had. You would think it would form some solidarity. But- no. It was like something about that place sucked the life out of everyone and replaced it with the same plastic they make fake grass and baby dolls out of. A false sense of love that is both felt and not, a disconnection from humanity on a wide scale, but in a frightening and unwanted way. At least with how you feel now, you can accept that you sometimes feel like you would be better suited to be some kind of creature living in the woods. Back then, in that unnatural neighborhood, it was as if you were forced to be disconnected from your own feelings. But everything is nice today. You have a good day. You don't do much for the rest of it. There's not much to be done, for now. You fall asleep, happy and dreamless. You survive. [[Try Again?]]

You agree to come, and it seems six and a half hours pass in no time at all. You're in the passanger's seat of Kendra's car, with Gary in the back, since he's the youngest, and you feel... Awkward about it. Dinner is nice, though. More people were in the restaurant than you expected, people here must be really excited to get somewhere new to get food at. The menu is much easier to understand than the diner's. You get a beef stew. Hearty and warm, but won't break Gary's bank. It seemed like the most practical choice. You don't talk much, only nodding when you need to or occasionally popping into the conversation when you //really// feel the need to add something. It felt nice. [[Today is nice.]]

You say it quickly so it doesn't sting as much in your throat. Gary looks a little sad, but tries to shrug it off. "Well, that's just fine! You can hold down the fort then! Have fun with your, uh, rats? They're rats, right?" You nod. Gary does a mini-fist pump in the air, since he remembered that you had rats. You would ask if he knew their names, but you didn't want to spoil the mood. "Well, then, I'll go get presentable. Uh, Kendra, meet you back at... I dunno, six? Six-thirty? When do you wanna leave?" Kendra shrugs. "I dunno, I'll knock when I'm hungry." She says, finishing up her sandwich and putting her plate away. "Alrighty then!" Gary says with a smile, wandering off back to his room. Kendra looks back to you. "Have fun out here, sewer girl." While it might seem like an insult, it was actually a playful nickname because you are quite fond of rats and mushrooms and decay, all things apparently found in New York sewers. You wouldn't know. You've never been. "Have fun out there, old woman." Another playful nickname, because Kendra is twelve years your senior. Kendra smiles and leaves you alone. All alone. [[Head back to your room.]]

You head back to your room after cleaning up after lunch a little. You wave to your rats, sticking your fingers through the cage bars to pet them, before flopping down on your bed. You sigh, retreating into your own mind as hours pass by. It's dark when you come back to reality. You stand up and fumble your way to your closet, feeling sleep starting to threaten your body with an uncomfortable resting place right here while you turn on the lights and put on some pajamas. You're unsure if Gary and Kendra are back yet. You hope they are, it's hard to drive in the dark on snowy roads. You turn off the light and shuffle your way back to bed, tripping over your own bedframe and into your bed. Moments later, you're out like a light. You fall into a dreamless, but restless sleep. But, you survive. [[Try Again?]]

"... Oh. Um, I didn't- nevermind, I'm glad you can, uh, see why we're worried! We can talk about that later, though. Um, you wanna join us for dinner? I know you don't usually eat at this time, but... I'm making baked potato soup!" Gary says with a goofy smile. "It's my mom's recipe, she taught me everything I know about cooking!" Well? [["Okay."]] [[I'm alright, thank you."]]

"... We're just worried. And- um, we don't have to do anything now, just... Would you like to join us for dinner? I'm making baked potato soup..! I know you don't usually eat at this time, I'm just wondering..." [["I'll join."]] [["No thanks."]]

You walk out to the living quarters, sitting down at the table where Kendra plays some match-three game loudly on her phone. You stay silent as Gary goes to a giant pot on the stove, humming a tune. Sometimes you wonder why he never went on any of those cooking game shows, or tried to become a cook. Why a body farm, what one would hopefully consider a good opposite of cooking? He looks so happy doing this. [[Ask why he doesn't follow his passions.]] [[Watch and wait.]]

You say it quickly, so Gary can be let down easy. "... Yeah, that's fine! Just... Can we talk tomorrow?" You nod, and Gary gives you a small smile before turning around. You close the door and go back to bed. You think about things. You eventually think yourself into exhaustion and fall asleep. Your night is nightmare-filled, as usual. But, you survive. [[Try Again?]]

You walk out to the living quarters, sitting down at the table where Kendra plays some match-three game loudly on her phone. She gives you a glance and a nod as you sit. You stay silent as Gary goes to a giant pot on the stove, humming a tune. Sometimes you wonder why he never went on any of those cooking game shows, or tried to become a cook. Why a body farm, what one would hopefully consider a good opposite of cooking? He looks so happy doing this. [[Ask why he doesn't follow his passions.]] [[Watch and wait.]]

You say it quickly, so Gary can be let down easy. "... Yeah, that's fine! Just... Let's talk tomorrow." You nod, and Gary gives you a smile and a wave before turning around. You close the door and go back to bed. You think about things. You eventually think yourself into exhaustion and fall asleep. Your night is nightmare-filled, as usual. But, you survive. [[Try Again?]]

"Huh? What do you mean?" He asks. "You seem to love cooking so much, why did you come here for a job?" It takes Gary a while to answer. "... Well, I like cooking for my family and friends." "... And?" You ask. "Some random strangers at a restaurant aren't my family and friends. I think, y'know, I wanna keep my hobbies as a hobby. Like- would you go into breeding and selling rats?" You think about this, before shaking your head. No, you would never do that. "Exactly, so you kinda get it. Anyways, dinner's ready!" He starts to ladle hearty-looking yellowish soup into bowls, bringing one to Kendra, then you. You look down at the soup, the warmth and smell wafting up to your face. It smells like cheese and salt and bacon grease, all good things. You look to Kendra, who's already digging in, then to Gary, who watches you expectantly. You take a spoonful. Oh my god, this might be the best thing you've had in a long, long time. Gary must see it on your face, because his smile grows and he starts to eat. [[This feels nice.]]

You watch Gary cook, silent as ever. It doesn't take long for you to slip back into the confines of your own mind, so it feels like no time at all before he places a bowl of hearty soup in front of you. You look to Kendra and see her scarfing it down. You look to Gary and see him watching you expectantly. You start to eat. Oh my god, this might be the best thing you've had in a long, long time. Gary must see it on your face, because his smile grows and he starts to eat. [[This feels nice.]]

As you eat, you think about things. Gary reminds you of a Stranger you once knew. You miss him every day. He felt like the only thing that was real when you were stuck- wherever the place you were in three years ago. An elevator that was a gateway to other worlds, it seemed. Never your own- not that you'd recognize it if you saw it, your memory was half gone and still fading. You're better now, but not by much. You're still covered in the scars from something that shouldn't be there wandering into your elevator. You hate to look at them, but there's nowhere on your body that they don't exist. The Stranger came before the monster. He offered you food, knowledge, and safety. Then he was taken from you by strange machines. You still think about him often, despite your time together being short. You hope he's okay. But for now, today's been good to you. You listen to you colllegues talk and joke and laugh. You head off to bed after several hours, exhausted, but happy. You fall asleep. You survived. [[Try Again?]]

"Well, what a nice name you have there. Matches your pretty face." You must look pretty disgusted by that comment, because he forces out a laugh. "I was just jokin', don't worry! So, what do you do around here?" [[Tell him something disturbing enough to make him go away.]] [["Body farm."]]

You both stare at each other in silence for a while. "... Are you suddenly mute? Did I scare you off that quickly?" He asks like a salesman would to get you to come back to them after you realize you're being scammed. You keep staring. Then, your eyes flick to just beyond his shoulder, and you widen your eyes. He looks behind himself to find... Nothing. He looks back to you, a little bewildered-looking. "What are you looking at?" He asks. //"The creature..."// You say in your best terrified whisper. //"It's coming closer... It's telling me to... To kill you..."// You look back to him with wide eyes. This is a tactic you used to use back when you would go out for fun, back in your early 20's. It's just as effective now as it was then, as the man uncomfortably gets up and leaves as the waitress comes over with your drink. You quietly chuckle. "Was he bothering you?" She asks. "Somewhat. I'm okay though." The waitress watches him leave, then uneasily places your coffee down and walks away. You get your coffee and drink it quickly before paying and walking out. You don't want to be here, not with weird men who insist on bringing you home before your coffee. You start to walk back through the snowfall, it's heavier now. But, you daydream enough to ignore the annoyance of the snow and the danger of nightfall. [[Go back to your room.]] [[Go apologize to Gary.]]

"If you don't have any close family, and forget to specify where you want your body to be, you'll most likely end up at my farm when you die. I think I'd put you in the simulated lakes, your body looks good for water decomposition. I'll see you soon." He pauses, clearly not having prepared for coming across someone like you. He tries to hide his open disgust, but he's obviously struggling. //"I- What?"// He asks. You repeat yourself. //"Why would you- say something like that?"// "You asked for my thoughts. Would you like to hear what'll happen when I put you in the water?" He stays there, stunned and silent for a little bit, before picking up his coin and quickly walking away. Your words are powerful, you don't talk much, but you use them to your advantage. You get your coffee and drink it quickly before paying and walking out. You don't want to be here, not with weird people who actually //want// to know you. You start to walk back through the snowfall, it's heavier now. But, you daydream enough to ignore the annoyance of the snow and the danger of nightfall. [[Go back to your room.]] [[Go apologize to Gary.]]

You only mean to tell him the most disturbing bits about your life, to scare him off, but everything starts to spill out. You can't stop. You see his face begin to shift. His smile slowly fades, and he looks more sympathetic to you. You start to openly cry. He reaches out a hand, placing it on your shoulder and rubbing it, supposedly to make you feel better. He lets you talk, never interrupting, not judging. He doesn't look like he'll cart you off to a mental hospital. "My, my, you've been though... A lot. I understand, I've heard about this before." "Even the-" "Yes, even the disappearing for months on end and ending up in what seems in another world. I've heard it before, from someone close to me." "Someone- what is their name?" "Gre- that doesn't matter now." It seems the name causes him pain. "What matters is that I understand. Here, it's a furious storm out there. Why don't I get you back to where you're supposed to be?" [[Go with him.]] [[Stay here.]]

While you and Gary enjoy your sandwiches, Kendra storms in, looking dead-tired. //"Scremredy, why did I let you convince me to switch duties with you today..?"// She groans as she collapses into a chair at the table. "Next time, //you're// giving them the tour..." You shrug with a sheepish smile. You know full well that next time students come, you will convince her to switch with you again. "Here, let me make you-" "No, Gary, don't get up, you're in the middle of eating. I'll make myself a tomato sandwich or something." She gets up, looking a lot like a ragdoll as she does, unsteady limbs carrying themselves weirdly. And, she does just as she says, and makes a tomato sandwich. Toasted bread, mayo, and tomato with a bit of salt. According to her, it's good. The idea weirds you out too much to try it. She sees you staring. //"Ith's goob..."// She says with a full mouth, like she did the last time. And the time before that. And the "Hey, you guys wanna go out to that new restaurant in town for dinner?" Gary suggests. You raise an eyebrow. "Are you gonna pay?" Kendra asks when her throat's clear of her food. "... Well, sure, why not!" "Well, I can't argue then." Kendra says with a shrug, going back to her tomato sandwich. Gary looks to you expectantly. [["... Sure."]] [["... No thanks."]]

Gary was right. He can grill a mean cheese. Though you miss the tomato soup, it's just lunch. Grilled cheese //and// tomato soup is more of a dinner thing, in your opinion. Kendra bursts in, tired as ever. //"Whyyyy did I let you convince me to switch duties today, Scremredy..."// She moans, collapsing into her seat. "College kids are //the worst...// You're okay, Gary." Gary nervously chuckles. "I blame the snow. Makes people antsy." He says with a shrug. "Want a grilled cheese? The pan's probably still hot." "Why not... Next time, you're answering those kid's benign questions... It's great that they're curious, but at some point it feels like they're asking the //dumbest// questions to piss me off... Ugh." She looks to you. You smile sheepishly, knowing that you'll probably convince her again to switch duties the next time this happens. "Well, I'm sure you were the same in college. I mean, it's not their fault you've been working here ten years and have probably heard it all." You say, only half-joking. "Hey, I can attest to the fact that I was not, because these places didn't exist when I was in college." She says with a small laugh. "You know what I mean!" You say as Gary slides a plate with a grilled cheese in front of Kendra. [[Let her eat a little, she needs more energy.]]

You get up, worn out by the day's events and everything spilling out. He leads you outside, and only when you sit down in the passanger's side of his fancy little car do you realize you forgot to wait for your coffee. Oh well... He starts to drive. You watch out the window. "Here. Turn here." You say. Your stomach twists as he doesn't make the turn. The doors are locked, with no mechanism on the inside to unlock them- at least, not ones you can reach. "Turn around." You demand. He says nothing, and keeps on driving like you don't exist. Oh god. It's happening to you. [[Grab the steering wheel.]] [[Call 911.]] [[Unbuckle and fight.]]

"Are you sure? You're sure to freeze out there." You look outside. It is snowing quite a lot. Not more than usual, but it'll be a pain to get back. [[Go with him.]] [[No, you're fine.]]

"Are you absolutely sure? As a doctor, I don't want any needless deaths, I'm sure you can understand." It is cold out, but this is normal for this time of year. What isn't normal is you staying out past nightfall, however... [[Go with him.]] [[Stand your ground. No, you aren't going.]]

You put your foot down, slamming your hand on the table. He jumps a little. "I'm fine." The waitress comes over with your coffee, and he quickly gets up, starting to leave. "Was he bothering you?" She asks. "A bit. He's gone now." The waitress watches him leave, then uneasily places your coffee down and walks away. You get your coffee and drink it quickly before paying and walking out. You don't want to be here, not with weird men who insist on bringing you home before your coffee. You start to walk back through the snowfall, it's heavier now. But, you daydream enough to ignore the annoyance of the snow and the danger of nightfall. [[Go back to your room.]] [[Go apologize to Gary.]]

You grab the steering wheel, violently swerving the car to the left. The man doesn't have enough time to press on the breaks before running into a tree, crushing the car like a soda can. You don't last long after that, but neither does he. As you watch him bleed out as you're bleeding out yourself, you feel a strange sense of satisfaction. They find your and his body 2 days later, when the storm lets up and people get back on the roads. [[Try Again.]]

You take out your phone, trying to be subtle about it, but he snatches it from you, opening his window and throwing it out. "You're not going anywhere, little miss." That name disgusts you even more now. [[Grab the steering wheel.]] [[Stay quiet and pray.]] [[Unbuckle and fight.]]

You unbuckle your seatbelt, and look to the man driving the car. "The door's locked, little miss." He says with a smile. You wipe the smile off his face by lunging at him. There's not much room to do so, but you go for the eyes. He swerves, trying to push you away. You bite his hand. You bite down //hard.// He punches at you, and you scratch his face. You fight like a feral animal as the car veers off the road. You wake up later in the night, with the man lifelessly slouched on top of you. You gingerly push him away and start to crawl your way out of the crushed car, ignoring your injuries. You feel a bit like a rat in the wall as your clothes rip from crawling through the broken windshield. You limp your way to the road, almost completely covered in snow except for a small black mass. You stumble over. Your phone. People may laugh at you having such an old one, but by god is it strong. You shakily call 911, looking back at the car that held you. You see the man stirring as you wait for the ambulances and police to arrive. [[Get away.]] [[Wait here.]]

You stay quiet, silently praying to any gods you can think of. You apologize. You wish the best for your coworkers. You hope you're at least found in the end. The rest of the night is a blur. Tugging, you think your arm popped out of it's socket. The pain feels far away while your mind resides somewhere else. You lie on a cold floor, you can almost picture it. It reminds you of the elevator you were trapped in once. The one that seemed to lead to other worlds. Trapped in a cold box, unable to do much of anything. At least, back then, you had a friendly Stranger to guide and keep you company. No matter how little time. You miss him. An uneasy sleep eventually claims you, but it is sleep nonetheless. You survive today, but you aren't sure you'll survive to the end of the week. [[Try Again?]]

You stumble away from the car, limping along the side of the road, hoping the ambulances will find you first, or the blood trail will lead them to you. You try to make a little tourniquet out of your torn clothes, you still leave a trail of blood, but it's better than nothing. The ambulances find you. It feels like it's been hours. They take you in. Your body decides that you feel safe enough in their hands, and you drift off to sleep. You will wake up the next day in the hospital, surrounded by friends. You survived today. [[Try Again?]]

You wait, stumbling some more before falling back in the snow. It takes a couple minutes before you can bring yourself to sit up. You can hear the man groaning in pain. Part of you feels glad. A scarier part wants to finish the job. The adrenaline slowly wears off, and you lay back in the snow, exhausted. You slowly slip into sleep, the comforting cold surrounding you on all sides. You succumb to the cold before the ambulances can reach you. By then, they have to dig to recover your body. [[Try Again.]]

"... A what?" You take this chance to try to scare him off by describing, in great detail, what your job entails. Blood, gore, rot, and all. You've always been told that you could be a good writer if you weren't so clinical and detatched, so your descriptions seem to make the man physically ill. "And you- //enjoy// this..?" You nod. "Yes. I enjoy watching things decompose. And, I'm sure if I make the right choices, and you make the wrong choices, I'll get to see you rot as well." ... And they wonder why you rarely meet new people. It doesn't take long for the man to decide that you're too much of a freak of nature and leave. You're glad. The waitress comes with your coffee. You drink. You pay. You leave. [[Go back to your room.]]