The Great Game

If you’re new to the Great Game, please have a quick look at the blurb to your left, where you’ll find a short catch-up introduction.

“Bloody marvellous,” Travis said. “What charming timing. So you don’t remember anything about the last three weeks?”

“Three weeks?”

“Lucky bastard,” said a different voice, off to the left.

Travis sighed. “Alright. Look, it’s bad, but we’re not out of the game yet. Follow my lead, and we can talk about this later. Sit up, but remember that this is a hostile situation. Stay low and quiet. Got it?”

“Okay,” I said, “but…”

“What?” Travis sounded annoyed. “Make it quick.”

“Who are we up against?”

Someone out of view laughed bitterly. Travis just shook his head wearily. “Just stay with us, and assume that anyone not in  uniform is a threat.”

He withdrew, and I sat up, making sure to keep low and quiet. The air tasted damp, and had a peculiar hint of salt to it. I looked looked over my shoulder. We were clustered around the base of a stairwell, in the shadows. Travis was with half a dozen others, all dressed in urban fatigues. I recognised half of them from his office, but I wasn’t sure of the names. The other three were unfamiliar. I glanced down, and was unsurprised to note that I was wearing fatigues too.

There was a crackle of quiet radio chatter, and then someone — Adams? — was moving past me in a cautious crouch. Travis tapped me on the shoulder, and nodded me to get moving. I stood up, keeping low, and fell into the middle of the line. Hugging the walls on the more shadowed side, we started making our way along the street. There wasn’t much trash underfoot, but the concrete slabs looked surprisingly weather-stained. There seemed to be something wrong with my hearing, because although we were being careful, our steps seemed oddly loud.

It was then, of course, that I finally realised there wasn’t any background noise. No traffic, no voices, no snatches of music or TV… nothing. How far would you have to be before a pod was totally inaudible, with no other noise to interfere? Quarter of a mile? Possibly more — especially for big transports and older vehicles. What the hell was going on?

I found myself listening intently, trying to hear anything beyond the group. After half a minute or so, I noticed a very faint sighing on the cold wind. It seemed to rise and fall in pitch, almost a lament. It didn’t sound anything like the breeze through leaves or wires. It was odder than that. Sploshier, somehow.

“Taylor.” Travis’ voice in my ear was a sudden nasty shock.

I managed not to make any noise, but I couldn’t stop myself from convulsing a little. “Sir?”

“Adams is taking your team. You’re with me.”

I had a team? I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Come along.” Travis nodded to a couple of the others, and then turned to face across the road. A moment later, he set off in a quick crouching dash. The other two he’d nodded to followed, so I did as well. We all plastered ourselves against wall on the other side, and unholstered guns. Nothing happened in response. Then we started inching our way down the wall towards the slightly recessed front door of a cheap-looking residential building.

When Travis got to the edge of the door, he nodded to the woman immediately behind him. She dashed round him and past the door, giving it a quick shove as she did so, and then flattened herself against the far side. The door must have been ajar, because it swung open. After a long, tense moment, she swung back round to face the doorway, gun ready, and then started advancing into the building. We all shuffled after her.

The building was dingy, and the air smelt unpleasant. We appeared to be in a broad, lino-floored hallway. There were several doors. Travis looked at the woman and nodded towards one, then crooked a finger at me and set off towards another. I followed him cautiously, keeping an eye out behind us as he tried the door slowly, and then carefully pushed it open.

We advanced into a bedroom that had either been burgled, inhabited by a messy student, or both. Travis indicated the bed to me, and moved towards a large wardrobe. I went over to it, senses tingling.

There was a mighty roar, the world spun and went dark, and something smashed into my back and legs. A long, dazed moment, and I realised I was coughing fiercely, and that I was lying on my back again. Dim light was filtering from above me, and I hurt all over. I swore, before remembering I was supposed to keep quiet. Something was digging into my calf. I shifted my leg, and looked about as best I could, waving my gun wildly, but I couldn’t make out anything through the dust.

The floor had obviously collapsed. At least part of it. I groaned, and then froze at a furtive rustling from off in the darkness. I forced myself to ignore my leg, and stood up as quietly as possible, gun ready. There was another rustle, and then a quiet, frightened sobbing. I blinked. It sounded like a child.

I picked my way towards the crying, slowly and carefully. The dust was starting to settle, and my eyes were beginning to adjust, and I could make out a small figure cowering in the corner of the basement. As I advanced, the child peeked up at me, and let out a hopeless little moan.

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Today’s photo is Abandoned Street by ChrisTheGirl