The City of Blue

The City of Blue (abridged) A mini-adventure, made with Twine By Linden Killam [[Begin|Rebirth]].

I am reborn. I drive through miles upon miles of the shapely but sinister desert, paranoid that I am being tracked in this police car. I drive as fast as I can with the brights on, afraid of hitting something but not wanting to get caught in the middle of nowhere. There are no lights on at all past the city, and nobody driving out here. My fear of being caught subsides with each passing mile, but is replaced by the fear of having to face a night alone in a dead world. The good news is that I have plenty of gas, very close to a full tank. I’m guessing the surviving police and the rest of the friendly local military-industrial complex would have had dibs on the gas that remained, and would have filled up before the supply ceased. Lucky me. The adrenaline of my carjacking and escape has me wired up, I can go all night if I have to. The next landmark is the resort town of Mesquite, which, unlike Vegas, is now totally dark. The casinos and silent marquees look poignant, rising up out of the flat plain near the mountains, keeping watch over the dead. [[Continue|I-70 Split]]

I know I have to take I-70 east to go towards home, once I see the signs for it. I’ve looked at many road maps before and I know the general paths of the interstates, mainly because I am just that big of a nerd who likes to look at maps. The landscape gets even more breathtaking, with wide, flat mesas in the distance, flanking the interstate, the likes of which I’ve never seen before. But I’m concerned that there are almost no real towns here, just endless desert, and my gas is actually starting to run low. I'm thinking about continuing up I-15 instead, and then maybe take I-80 or even I-90, which will also ultimately take me in the direction of home. It's a little longer, and more remote, which lessens the chance of running into any bad people but means that there might be fewer refueling opportunities. Really, there's no telling what I'll encounter if I continue along the Rocky Mountains. I know that the Salt Lake City area is in the direction of I-15, followed by Wyoming if I take I-80. On the other hand, it's mostly Utah desert along I-70 before entering Colorado. [[Continue along I-15]] [[Take I-70]]

There hasn’t been any real town for the last fifty miles, and I probably should have stopped near the I-70 split. It would be ironic to die out in the open desert after escaping jail. Fortunately, I can see actual travel signs now, and an exit for a place called “Green River”, and I take it, just as I’m about to be in real danger of running out of gas. Out here in the middle of absolutely goddamn nowhere, in the dead of night, there is no sign of activity. Just this town which seems to consist of one arching road next to the freeway, flanked by truck stops, one of which has two semi trucks still parked there, awaiting their drivers, and endless motels. In the distance are otherworldly mesas. In the setting sun, they seem like the sentinels of some alien landscape, bearing witness to the tiny insignificant man in a car struggling to survive while they will remain forever. I cross the eponymous river on a short bridge, and see a large chain hotel to my left. Perfect. I’m so tired, and also hungry and thirsty, maybe there’s something there for me. In the parking lot, not caring for the moment about being seen, I pry open the unlocked sliding glass door, and retch. A wall of horrible stench assaults me, and I have a back out quickly. I get back in the car and point my headlights at the lobby, and I can see a stack of bodies just set in the lobby. Someone went to the trouble to do that, but didn’t bury them, or at least put them outside in all this open space. Things must have gotten very bad, very quickly, even out here. Come to think of it, I could probably try to climb into a window into one of the rooms here. This seems like a nice place to stay, and the pile of bodies might ward off anyone else trying to investigate. [[Break a window|Green River Hilton]] [[Backtrack into town]]

These hedges along the windows are tougher to navigate than I thought. I make a few half-hearted efforts to get over the hedges in order to break a window, before I seriously question what I am doing. I don't even have any tools for window breaking, and if I do succeed, who knows whether I can withstand the draftiness or the stench from the piled bodies in the lobby? What if someone else is alive in the hotel? I've never believed in ghosts, but the more that I think about it, this is exactly the kind of place that would be extra-haunted. [[Backtrack into town]]

So I backtrack, back across the river. From what I could see there was a nearly endless supply of hotels and motels, and I ought to be able to find something. There is a cheaper-looking motel that has rooms that open to the outside. The rooms continue around the back, and I think it would be best if neither I nor my stolen car is visible from the road. I pick door #14, feeling vaguely disappointed that there is no #13, aim the headlights at it, and then go and knock on it, with one hand on my knife. Nothing happens, and I open it right up. There’s a made, wood-frame queen bed, an old TV and and no sign of anything bad inside as I check around. Fantastic. I turn the headlights off, and close and lock the door. It even has one of those old-timey sliding chain locks in addition to the deadbolt, and I lock that part too. I reflexively try to turn on the light but of course nothing happens. I fumble around, into the bathroom, where only a trickle comes out of the faucet and the shower, but it’s enough for me to drink. I’m so happy right now just to have what little I have. I take off the foul, blood-stained police outfit and I fall asleep on the very comfy bed, with the knife on the nightstand next to me. I wake up in the middle of the night and it takes me a moment to remember where I am. I think I can hear something outside other than just the wind, and my hand goes to the knife on the nightstand. Wait just one second… There it is again. Slow footsteps in the parking lot, near my door. I roll off the bed, knife in hand, ready to take on any challengers in my underpants. [[Investigate the parking lot]] [[Shield in place]]

I step out of the door confidently, with a swagger in my step from the adrenaline. I don't know what has come over me, but I am determined to prove that it's only me out here in my underpants, fumbling in the dark. I don't even consider the possibility that an assailant could have been behind me, until I hear the quick footsteps and feel the knife in my back. They must have been hiding in one of the other rooms. "You look good, bro," he whispers as I collapse to the ground. The last, flickering thought that I have is that I don't know how the fuck he can tell. Because I sure as hell can't see his face in this pitch black darkness, and I probably wouldn't have been able to get a look at him anyway. [[Go back|Backtrack into town]]

The footsteps recede. And after my heart rate goes back down and I climb back into bed, I can’t be certain that there was anyone outside at all. [[Continue|Wake up]]

For some reason, the road is closed north of I-70, and there's not much choice other than to go back to I-70. [[Take I-70]].

(set: $isClothed to false) I need lots of stuff right now. This town should have food, drinks, and clothes, and I really hope I can get gas, one way or another. And I’m scared of what I might encounter when I try to find those things. But first things first. The water out of the faucet is at a slower trickle than it was even last night. I drink what little I can of it. I look down at the clothes on the floor in disgust. I don’t want to wear those anymore. I wonder if I can get away with just wearing my skivvies out and about. Only one way to find out. Today I’m just gonna be an everyday guy in my undies and my socks and shoes, driving a police car from a different state around a small town. I keep the knife and the police belt close at hand though. But I feel quite exposed, and clothes would be nice at the moment. It's really nice to be able to see stuff better in the daylight. Back a short ways on the road, past a big truck stop, is a shop just labeled “Thrift Store”. Worth a try. [[Try the thrift store]] [[Keep looking]]

(set: $isClothed to true) The main door is locked. But it’s just a screen door, and I’m able to break it down by throwing myself against it, and almost hurt myself falling to the ground. I feel bad about breaking the door, but there is nobody around to disapprove of me breaking and entering in my underpants. It’s small, of course, and inside there’s all kinds of kitschy stuff, even cassette tapes against the back wall, and what look like phonographs for sale. More like hipster fodder than the sort of things I would have expected in a small-town store. There’s some suit coats and fancy pairs of pants on racks, and in a circular room to the side, the kind of simple clothes I’m looking for. Perfect. I take some blue jeans that might be a little too tight for me and some other simple shirts, and undies, and multicolored socks, and drive back to the river, stripping down and washing myself off. The water feels great, and doesn’t seem polluted in any way to me. I can’t quite shake the feeling that I’m being watched, though. I have seen no signs of life anywhere since Las Vegas, not even on the drive here, but I feel anxious and I keep looking around, feeling exposed out here. I always keep the knife close by as I finish washing myself and dress in the new clothes. Yes, the jeans are too tight, but they're workable. (if: $secondDayGreenRiver is true)[ [[Visit the auto parts store]]](else:)[ [[Keep looking]].]

I had no chance to stop somewhere for food and water, and now I feel like I’m hungover, headachy and parched. The water in the stream was soothing, but I know I probably shouldn’t drink it. The truck stop I saw last night is smaller than I had thought. It’s shaped kind of like a barn and it has a covered wagon model on the roof. Inside, it’s a mess. Clearly this place has been looted more than once, but I hope I can salvage some things from here. It doesn’t even smell too bad. There’s a hot food station that’s totally empty, I would really like some fried chicken right now. There’s some jerky next to it, I grab that first. A cooler has been pulled open and there are pop bottles littering the floor. I take a choice armful of those and deposit them in the car. I even manage to find two tins of canned ham in the debris, worth their weight in gold right now, as well as a lighter and some lighter fluid, and more than enough headache medicine. They even have little grill pans here to cook on. After my last trip out of the store I munch on a bag of chips and go around the back of the station to admire the vast empty desert and the mesas. (if: $isClothed is false)[I'm starting to get cold outside. ]At least, I thought the desert beyond the town was empty. Someone’s private property is back here, it looks like it might be farm of some sort, though I don’t know what grows out here. Of greater interest, though, are the neatly arranged corpses in the sandy dirt, spelling out a message to no-one. [[Continue|Time Stops]]

“TIME STOPS” is the part of the written message that I can make out, stretching off into the distance, made out of bodies. I can see some of their faces individually, from the other side of this short barbed-wire fence; they are disfigured badly by the pox, but relatively well preserved in the desert heat. Someone put a lot of effort into this. What is up with people wanting to use dead people as art? At least whoever did this is not doing it to terrorize me, unlike last time. I hope they’re gone though, I don’t want to have to share this small town with some psychopath. I hope that at least I don’t have to fight anyone until I can eat something. (if: $isClothed is false)[And put on some damn clothes.] [[Continue|Back at the motel]]

Back at the motel, in the dark and dingy room I slept in, I’m thankful that everything is the way I left it. I hadn’t bothered to try to find the key to the room in order to lock it. I put on the belt from the police officer and attach my holster and knife. I grab the rest of the awful police clothes I dumped on the floor, take them outside, douse them in lighter fluid and set them on fire underneath my tiny standup grill pan. (if: $isClothed is false)[The fire warms me up a bit. ]I cut up the canned ham into strips and lay them out on the grill pan, and they make little sizzling sounds. I use potato chips as vehicles to put hunks of meat on and I eat them. They're like bottom-of-the-barrel apocalypse hors d’oeuvres, and they make for good eating. After I'm done with that and I’ve made sure the fire is out, I find myself walking in the general direction of the truck stop, one hand on the knife, focused on the next big problem I have. How will I get out of here? The pumps at the station don't work, of course, nothing has power. As it turns out, I don't know how a lot of basic things function, like gas stations. I should also get a different car. It shouldn’t be hard to steal a car from the dead, should it? [[Try stealing a car]] [[Go and mope instead]]

As it turns out, it’s pretty hard. There’s a lot, mostly full of cars at an auto body shop near the truck stop, but do I want a car that may have something wrong with it? I can’t bring myself to break into the houses near the center of town, especially knowing that there could be a few people still alive. The full series of words made by the dead bodies is “TIME STOPS BUT LIFE GOES ON”, carefully arranged, but with straight-line edges for the “O”s and “U”s. What's curious to me is the general lack of cars in the center of town. There were those two semi trucks at the truck stop, more in back, and a few other cars here and there, mainly pickup trucks, but I need to find a key for one, and I don’t find one after looking in a few of them, although some of them have unlocked doors. Everyone could have fled town when the first cases started, but to go where exactly? The nearest major hospital could be fifty miles away. I do find a medical center at the edge of town with some cars in the lot, and a single elderly man’s body faceplanted outside of the doors. Is there a key on him to one of these vehicles? I’m very hesitant to try to fish around in his pants for one. [[Search around for a key]] [[Go and mope instead]]

Maybe I'll never get out of here. Maybe I'll just live in this place until I run out of supplies. (if: $isClothed is true)[ No, I need to do better for myself, and for my parents. I have to get back home, no matter what the cost. And I'm feeling better now. I need to get back to try to find a key out of here. [[Try stealing a car]] ](else:)[ Looking out at the great plain of bodies once again, I feel like I should join them. I navigate to the end of the bodies, and form the period at the end of the sentence that was missing. [[Go back|Try stealing a car]]]

I take a deep breath, hold it, and take my knife out and slowly, carefully, cut open his cotton khaki pockets. There’s a wallet and some balled-up tissue, but no keys. And if there were any keys, I’d be afraid to touch them. I walk all the way back to the river and wash my hands, and the knife. It’s starting to get dark, and I’m tired already, and frustrated with not being able to leave here. The motel room is still exactly the way I left it, and I fall asleep in the dying light. Something wakes me, late at night. I think I hear footsteps, again. Slow footsteps, around the lot in front of my door. I panic and hide behind the bed, for whatever good that will do, and listen to whoever is pacing around out there. The car is right out front, did the Las Vegas police find me? Local police? Is someone waiting for the right moment to burst in and take me down? But the footsteps recede, and fade away. I do manage to fall asleep again. [[Wake up again]].

(if: $isClothed is false)[(set: $secondDayGreenRiver to true)] As soon as I get up, I know I have to recommit to getting out of here as fast as possible, even if that means driving the police car out of town. I should have had this done yesterday. I saw an auto parts store in town, and it probably has the kind of thing that I'm looking for. (if: $isClothed is false)[But maybe I should try to get some clothes first. I'm still thinking about that thrift store from yesterday. [[Try the thrift store]]] [[Visit the auto parts store]]

I bring the police car over there. Fortunately, the store is unlocked and looks quite undisturbed, if dark inside. I even find a flashlight! Something I really need, with batteries included. After searching around a bit, I’m able to find a gas can and some rubber tubing. I think this will do what I need it to. I don't even know how I know about what I’m going to be trying. I have a vague memory of seeing this done in an old black and white movie… I drive on over to the nearest pickup truck that I saw yesterday. I set the gas can on the ground, and take a deep breath. The rubber tube goes in to the truck’s gas tank easily. I cut an appropriate length of it with my knife, put it in my mouth, and hope that I’m doing this right. I think this might actually be working. “You don't need to be doing that dude.” [[Wut|New friend]]

The gasoline hits my mouth just as I jump, and I tip the hose back up, spitting awfulness everywhere and trying to get it off of my tongue. The voice came from my right. There stands a skinny white dude with matted brown hair in an oversized T-shirt, grinning at me in a weird, peaceful manner. Where did he come from? “Hi there,” I say, setting down the gas hose. Gas is still flowing through the hose and I raise the end of it to stop the flow. Then I try to hide the knife with my arm. “Who are you?” “I’m Jason, I run the local artists’ space in town man,” he says. [[Go with it]] [[Question his motives]]

“Really, in a place like this? What type of work do you do?” I say, cautiously going along with what I think is the right thing to say. “All the signs you see around here,” he says. I’ve been so focused on other things that I haven't really noticed. “You arranged those bodies in the field,” I say. “Yeah man. Don't worry, I had gloves.” His smile remains unchanged. “There are more of us, I’m sure they would like to meet you.” “I’m an artist too,” I say. (if: $isClothed is true)[I'm wary of Jason, but he doesn't seem like that much of a threat.](else:)[He eyes me over, and simply replies, "You certainly are." He takes a pregnant pause.] “Well cool man. We got a sweet space, I’ll show you.” We walk towards the part of the town south of the main road, which I haven't explored yet. Jason looks very thin. Kind of attractive, from the back. He turns around and looks at me. “Hey, I saw you in that gas station taking food. We don't need food or anything like that. I can teach you.”

"Okay", I say, very suspicious of him. "Have you been following me around?" "Yeah," he says. (if: $isClothed is true)["I wanted to see if you might be someone who could join us." I hesitate. "Come with us, and you can learn how to live a cleaner life."](else:)["You look like someone we can feast on, when the hunger becomes too great," he says. He produces a knife, and I know that I am in for a fight.]