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.

A flurry of motion on the riot side of the barricade caught my attention. A group of infected were hurrying a mattress over towards my general position. Bloody wonderful. My sniper ducked out of sight, but the hubbub down by ladder was swiftly intensifying. I used the breather to hunker at the far end of the barricade.

I groaned. None of my options were exactly enticing. By the sounds of it, every bloody officer in the place was getting ready to storm up the barricade. Maybe Travis would be able to call them off. I put a top-priority call through to Travis. Whilst I was at it, I carefully tossed my gun towards the ladder, and lay down on my front with my hands laced over the lack of my neck. If the goons swarmed me, they might hold of shooting long enough to fix the situation.

The call connecting indicator blipped at me a couple of times, and then it connected.

“Travis,” said Travis.

“They’re going to shoot me! Help!”

“… Leave a message,” continued Travis’ recorder.

Bastard.

A gun barrel popped up from the ladder, and fired some wild shots. A moment later, a nervous-looking security officer appeared. I closed my mouth, and tried to look simultaneously irritated, pitiful and harmless. I suspect I only managed ‘constipated’. The woman whipped her gun up as soon as she saw me, and then hesitated. I had a go at grimacing reassuringly. She squinted at me for a moment, and then ducked back down.

A few moments later, an older officer appeared, gun trained on me even as he rose up through the ladder hole. He looked at me dispassionately for several eternal seconds, and then held up a horrifying-looking gag. I nodded microscopically, and he threw it at my face with impressive, if stinging, accuracy. I very slowly lifted a hand off my neck, picked the gag up, and slipped the thick rubber bit into my mouth. It took both hands to fasten it round my head, and felt like having a can of soup jammed between my teeth. When it was securely in place, I laced my hands behind my neck again.

The officer’s gun never wavered from my forehead throughout.

When I’d settled down again, he came up the ladder fully, and slowly advanced on me. I made damn sure not to move even a muscle. As soon as he was in range, he lifted a jangler in his off-hand. I blinked.

My body ignited. I couldn’t even scream. The world started spinning, and everything went away.

There was an empty eye, the hollow iris lined with frost, and the sensation of being pummelled, and a dizzying sense of wrongness…

I realised that I was lying down. My face, wrists and ankles all hurt abominably, and the rest of my body felt like it had been sculpted out of mush. It occurred to me that I was on my back. I lay there for a while, largely because I couldn’t even be bothered to open my eyes. Eventually I got bored, hauled my eyelids up, and looked around.

It looked like I was in a tent. Fading daylight visible through the top of the door indicated that the evening was drawing in. I tried to crane my head, but it was tied down. I could feel the rope against my forehead when I moved. I gave my arms, legs and torso experimental tries, but it seemed that I was trussed up like a Christmas Goose, and it felt as if my hands and feet were both cuffed together to boot.

With the gag in place, the best I could manage was a muffled MMMMM noise. No-one came. Great.

So I waited.

I must have dozed off, because I woke up to a flashlight beam flicking around.

“Taylor? You still with us?” It was Travis.

“Mmmff,” I said.

“Ah.” He unhooked the gag, and pulled it free. I groaned, and cleared my throat. “What happened here?”

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Sorry for being a day late; I spent yesterday travelling, and was too wiped out to write when I finally made it home.