It peaks with a scream so tremendous that I feel as if my head’s going to split. I see the tongues of flames licking the walls around me and feel the heat scorching my back as I’m elevated and thrown forward, my limbs flailing in circles as I’m tossed like a toy.
Then? Darkness.
I can’t say what happened. I don’t know. Nobody else does, either. I mean, technically, yes, I know what happened. The core detonated, and the floor beneath us gave way. What I’m saying is that I don’t know how we survived.
At least, the few of us that are left.
An account of our personnel follows.
James Cowling, Floor 7.
Mike Chapman, Floor 8.
Timothy Nguyen, Floor 10.
Janet Udoka, Floor 11.
Janet Baginski, Floor 13.
Vick McGill, Floor 16, Commanding.
Whether due to the area of the Tower we’ve fallen to or due to the combination of explosion and flames, the Creep concentration here is minimal. Over the last few days, we’ve been able to make some progress upward using the elevator shafts and Maintenance access points as I do my best to lead my team out of Polar North and upward. I believe we might have fallen as far down as Floor 40. At this point the best we can do is try and find our way back home.
I hope, at least, for two things. First, that our efforts to stem the Creep succeeded.
Second, that someone, somewhere, hears this report one day.
Commander Vick’s Report Number Eighteen
I keep recording these partly because it’s my duty and partly because… well, it adds some measure of meaning to what’s going on here. It’s as if just the fact that there’s a record of everything we’ve done here in the Deep Creep somehow, I don’t know, as if somehow that would make it okay if we never made it back. At least there would be something of us that we’d leave behind, a record that we existed. And maybe it would let others know about things to avoid. Don’t blow up the Creep, for instance.
That’s a joke, but at this point, even I’m finding it hard to laugh.
The part of the Tower we’re currently in is a mess of overturned cabinets, ransacked rooms, and stacks of papers that’ve been scattered all over the floor. Some power’s still flowing from the power core. How? I don’t know. All I know is that if there weren’t power, I doubt there’d still be lights on in the halls and rooms we’re making our way through.
God help us if things go pitch-black down here.
Another thing I failed to consider is that the Tower itself might have backup generators. It’s not as if we know much about how this place functions.
Nguyen started the morning by coughing up blood. It wasn’t much, so I told him to keep it cool. There are a number of things that can make you cough up like that, some more serious than others. It might just be inflammation from the air and smoke we sucked in during the explosion, or it could be that he just took a heavy impact. At this point I’m not too concerned, at least as long as he doesn’t start coughing it up frequently. If he does… I don’t know. One more reason for us to get back.
The tablets are at this point useless, at least as far as determining where we should be heading. They’re mapping where we walk and that helps give us a sense of orientation, but they’re no good as far as finding our way upward. We’re in uncharted territory here. Even Mike’s famous sense of direction doesn’t seem to be helping much.
Speaking of him, it seems a Scavenger’s always a Scavenger, even when the chips are down. This afternoon we heard a loud rattling in the vents off of the main hallway we were exploring. I didn’t want to investigate, since at this point I consider everything a threat. Mike, though, he went for it. Before I could protest, he was prying off the grate from that vent. My eyes were on him for just a split second as I waited for Creep to explode out and take him.
Fortunately I was wrong.
Turns out Mike found some sort of voice recorder. It’s a bit busted up from the fall, with its edges chipped a bit. I’m not sure how far up this vent goes, but it looks like someone tossed this thing from pretty high up. The Creep isn’t exactly known for just chunking things through the grates, so it had to have been a person. Why? I don’t know. It’s intriguing, though. We all assume that, since it’s a recorder, we’ll get some clues if we listen to it. I told Mike to stuff it into his satchel for now instead of putting it into Pocket Space. I think he’s going to listen to it later.
Another thing about that recorder, though. I’m thinking about the fact that it came down a vent. That vent must have pretty clear access to the top of the Tower. I’m not sure how high and we’d never be able to fit inside of it, but if it goes straight up to the upper levels, then there has to be an elevator shaft or stairwell around here that follows its path upward. One thing we do know about the architecture of the Tower is that it’s symmetrical, and these long winding vents usually follow the direction of other passages we can use.
I could be wrong, but I’m fairly sure we’ll be able to find some way upward soon. At least, I’m hopeful. And you know how I feel about hope. For the first time in a long time, we have a lead. We have a chance of getting home.
Commander Vick’s Report Number Nineteen
I wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of crying. The room’s filled with a rust-colored haze, something we haven’t seen since we entered the power core. I’m confused at first and look around, and it’s like the haze is getting thick even as I’m trying to see through it. The crying starts getting louder, too, so I pitch onto my side, trying to find out where it’s coming from. Then I see Mike standing there, over in the corner. I get off the mattress I’ve been using and head his way. He’s shaking badly, and I recall that I’ve been worried about his mental state. Too many smiles, not enough confessions.
“Mike,” I tell him. “Mike, get a hold of yourself.”
“They got to her,” he says, his voice quivering. I don’t know what he’s talking about. “They got to her, and I couldn’t help this time.”
“Who, Mike? Who’re you talking about?”
He turns to me, and his body is just in a full quake. The tears coming from his face are pooling on the floor as he holds up his hands, burying his face in them. “Authority, Vick! They got Jackie. They put her in Reinforcement…”
I shake my head, putting a hand on his shoulder, but he rips himself away from me. I take a step to him, trying to bridge the distance. “What are you talking about, Mike? How do you know they got her? Why?”
He doubles over, like someone’s hit him in the gut. “She went up there… she went to Floor 1. They found out… put her on trial. They sentenced her… guilty for a Violation of Thought.” He pauses just long enough to reach into his pocket and pull out the recorder we found yesterday. “It’s hers, Vick! It’s all on here!”
“Damn. Mike, man, I’m sorry. I’m real sorry, but you got to control yourself.” I say this as the haze deepens until I feel as if I’m staring at Mike through a crimson lens. My eyes shoot around the room, and I see… strangers. All along the wall, there are men lining up, standing there and staring at us. All black. All shadow. They’re watching us. “Mike, I need you to get it together right now! Do you know what you’re doing?”