This isnt what youre looking for. It wont save you. It wont keep you safe.

It wont make them love you, respect you, tolerate you. You should keep looking. But you wont. This is where we fail. This is where we always fail the curiosity. Everyone has it, but we have more of it than most, dont we? We look where we arent supposed to look. We think about things that theres no time to think about. We waste our time with silly stories when we should be focused on survival. But its as much a part of who we are as a Luggers muscle, isnt it? Curiosity, wonder, imagination. Its not really surprising theres so few of us. I dont write these words to entice you. If youre still out there, still wandering the scrub, this isnt what youre looking for. It isnt It. Yes, I know about It. I know we dont talk about It. We dont acknowledge It. But we all know about It, dont we? Our purpose, out here in the wastes. I know exactly what youre looking for, and Im afraid I cant give it to you. If I could, thered be no reason for me to keep writing, right? I would never have got in to this position, if Id ever found It. But youre still looking, and I dont want to waste your time. But it wont change anything, will it? Ive been where you are. Youre alone, deep in the ruins of a library. Or youve wandered off from your pack, pawing through the remains of some old shopping center. Maybe youre on the outskirts of camp, hiding yourself away while you try to make sense of what youre looking at. Ive been there, believe me. Everyone else, theyre focused on staying alive. Surviving, scratching out a meager living, maybejust maybeworrying about whats going to happen next week or next month. But not you. Youre trying to figure out whats going to keep everyone going next winter, next year, next century. Youre on the lookout for that last vital scrap of knowledge thats going to rebuild humanity in to something more than this. And you do it because you have to. You do it because its the only thing that justifies your existence. You dont have the technical ability to build anything. You arent strong enough to hunt or fight. You dont have the knack for growing anything, raising anything, or leading anyone. Youre just another useless hanger-on, surviving for only one reason. Youre a Reader. Part of them thinks youre magic, and you know that. Not enough to respect you, but enough for them to know youre different. You speak the words of the long-dead. You commune with the spirits of the never-were. You know things youve never experienced, and that frightens them. So you keep trying to find a way to matter. You look through these old books, and try to find

a way to make them accept you. But more often, you stumble upon something like that. Something that wont matter to anyone but you. Im sorry. I wrote this for you, you know. You, and all of the rest of us. Were as close to a community as any left out on the scrub. Sure, we rarely speak to each other, and when we dowell, we dont give up our secrets easily, do we? But we have a common bond. We still want more than whats given to us. We understand what weve lost. What we still may lose, if something doesnt change. And deep down, we understand that whatever is coming is going to be painful. I wrote this for you, because only you might be able to forgive me. I never meant for any of it to happen, certainly not the way it did. I got caught up in the dream. I thought I was going to be able to fix all of it, and I fear I may have just brought more misery. Maybe you can learn from my mistakes. Maybe you can use my failure to make things better. This isnt It. It wont keep you safe. It wont make them love you, tolerate you, or respect you. This wont save you. But it might be a start.

Scrub

1. Were here because of bad decisions. Theres millions of things that have gone wrong in human history call it divine intervention, fate, bad luck, random chance but the world we live in? We did this to ourselves. You probably already know this; youve doubtless read the Mysteries and swapped the tales. But maybe not. Maybe youre young, alone, trying to scrabble out an existence and this is the first time youve heard the real story. So as those before me did for me, Ill do for you. Ill tell you the Truth. Many years ago were not entirely sure when there was a disease. It wasnt like anything that had ever been before. It was quick, brutal, and nastybut the side effects were worse than the disease itself. The disease ate away atwell, call it your conscious, call it your soul, call it whatever you want, but it took it away. It just left the infected with a terrible rage and a terrible hunger, and a terrible urge to come together and cause as much destruction as possible. Thats where the Swarms came from, but thats not what destroyed the world. We took care of it on our own. As far as the tales go, we fought the Swarms for a quarter of a century. We turned our society towards the eradication of the disease huge leaps forward in medicine, with even larger steps backwards in our societies. We closed borders, we isolated people, we treated everyone as a suspected carrier. The free exchange of ideas stopped first because of the lack of person to person contact, and later when lines of communication were shut down by governments fearful of citizen revolts. The world stagnated over the course of that span, as we concentrated almost nothing but eradicating the disease. Almost, because we were just as obsessed with eradicating the carriers. World-wide military efforts sought out the Swarms, and they were successfulfor a little while. No matter what anyone tells you, Swarmers are nothing more than human. They cant shrug off a bullet or walk around with no head. And the old-style militaries were great at mowing them down. Twenty five years of constant fighting, putting down one outbreak only to rush to the other side of the world and take out another. And between outbreakswell, we pointed fingers, accused one another of starting it, and decided itd be a great idea to start the Great War. Twenty-five years of fighting a disease, and then we decided we should eradicate each other. Everyone knows how that one went, right? Armies doing their best to kill each other, stopping from time to time to wipe out a Swarm (or at least a city they declared infected). A few years of that and the world was on the edge of ruin. When everyones got bombs that can reduce the enemy to cinderswell, it gets kind of nasty, right? All it took after that was a little push to send things screaming right over the edge. Which is when people really started paying attention to the Shamblers.

When they finally started popping up, we were well and truly done. They were more dangerous, sure, but it was the psychological toll that we couldnt handle. I meanit was one thing to deal with the Swarms once. But what about when you had to deal with them twice? It was doomsday, and for a world that had become so comfortable with shutting itself away? It was officially time to close the doors. So they turned in on themselves, built their lovely little Sanctums, and locked the rest of us out to die. With no one to protect the world, everything outside went to hell. Little places that were barely holding on finally slipped. Places that were safe suddenly had no support. In a generation after the Sanctums locked their doors, the world was ready to fall apart. And so it did, and it became ours. Everything that we have, everything that we are, is the result of a decision to let the world die. Ive met people that have tried to justify it otherwise, but theyre lying to themselves. Humanity made a bad choice, and it was up to the Scrubbers to live with that. All we could do was try to survive, try to make it one more dayand try not to make it any worse. This is the story of another decision.

2. Now, picture if you will a robust young man with sun-bronzed skin, well-defined muscles and a swanky mane of dazzling blonde hair. Thatthats just about as far as you could get away from me at that point (to say nothing of today). I was pure scrubland trash through and through at that point in my life skinny to the point of malnourishment, pale from spending too much time grubbing for food or safety in the dark, with a stringy mop of darkish hair that I tended to chop off every time it got too hot. In general, I was a mess, but I was a survivor. In short, I looked more or less like every other Reader youve ever met. More or less every specialty falls in to their own stereotype, right? The scrawny Reader, the musclebound Lugger, the squinty-eyed Cooker, the wiry HoundsI mean, hell, it was useful. It let you figure out whether or not you needed to run when you saw another person out on the road. And if you didnt need to runwell, maybe it told you whether or not that person would be good to hook up with. Which, now that I think about it, sucks for us. Really, I meanlook, you see a Lugger, and you think oh, good, someone to help with the heavy lifting or I bet that guy can hunt. You see me, and you know what you get? Oh boy, he can read. Ive got a skill that even small children took for granted not all that many generations ago. I was lucky enough to have no skill other than an aptitude for a barely useful specialization. Like almost all of the rest of us, I survived only because I managed to hook up with a group of folks who had an old Reader willing to teach me the Letters and the Mysteries. So I learned what I needed, and got the oh-so-useful survival skill of realizing letters meant something. Sometimes, that made cliques think of me like a magician a relic of an old world that could instantly divine the inside of a can or point out the right directions to the wreck of an old building. Most of the time, it just made people wonder if I was worth sharing food with. And when I was on my own? Wellthat just meant I could be a little bit less scared about dying from the things most others didnt know about. Actually, thats not true at all. You had to be really scared about dying, because Readers tended to have very little in the way of useful skills outside of the actual, you know, reading. There was a reason that folks like me tended to be the low man on the totem pole useful as we were, we still tended to come in light when it came to pulling our weight. I mean, there were other, more useful jobs in any given scavenger group. There were the Lifters big, burly cusses that could, well, lift things. Doesnt sound glamorous, but they tended to be the most important people we had. They could haul scraps, they could move rubble, and they were generally scary enough looking that they could offer a little bit of protection from the scarier things in the world. Then there were the Cookersit wasnt just important that they knew how to cook, though. It was important that they knew how to use things. They were kind of like us Readers, but with more practical value. They had a tendency to remember how things went together, and a knack for figuring out

how new things might fit into the patterns. I mean, hell, Cookers and Lifters pretty much made up the majority of the scavenger population when I was growing up. The camps that I drifted through always prized the people that contributed the most, and tended to push out those who contributed the least. Obviously, I spent a lot of time outside of camp. By the time my story starts to get anywhere near interesting, I was rolling with a crew of aboutwell, three. Id love to say that I was the brains of the operation, or the leader, or anything glamorous, but that fell squarely on the shoulders of Lilah. She was a couple of years older than me, booted out of camp years ago because shed gotten herself pregnant. Lost the kid, like most people did those days, but most people didnt want that kind of drain on their group. A damn shame, too, because Lilah was probably the best Cooker Id ever met. Hell, truth be told, she was probably one of the more impressive people, period, that Ive met in my life (and thats saying something, believe you me). She had a real natural knack for figuring out how anything worked, and that included people. Her smooth talking kept us alive more than any Lifters muscles ever could. You know how I said most people didnt really care for family out in the scrub? Lilah wasnt one of them. When Lilah got the boot, her brother Sammy came along. Sammy waswell, its hard to describe Sammy. He was weird quiet, most of the time, but hed have these manic fits where he wouldnt shut up. He was a natural Hound, though Sammy knew where to find things. Dont know if it was cause he was so observant, or because he had some special knack, but Sammy could find things that people had overlooked for decades. I dont think I ate so well in my entire life as I did during the years when I was moving with those two. Anyway, we were quite a little trioa family, almost. Lilah and I were comfortable as two kids could be, having as much fun as hormones and horrible living conditions would allow. And when Sammy was feeling talkative, it was almost like having a friend around. A fucking loon of a friend, sure, but a friend nonetheless. To be honest, Im not really sure why they kept me around. Like I said, I was a Reader. From time to time, I was useful, but most of the time? I was another mouth to feed. Was I a little bit more cynical than I am, I might think that Lilah was just looking for a little male company, and I wasnt enough of a threat to hurt her brother. And even if thats true, so what? It doesnt change anything. They treated me decent, and they helped me survive. With just the three of us, I was able to pull my own weight pretty well, and there were a few times I helped to save their hides. So itI dont know, it just worked. Now, as the clich goes, everything started out innocently enough. And by innocently I pretty much mean boring, so excuse me if I dont go in to excruciating detail about our day to day lives. What was unusual about this particular day was how good it seemed to be. Like most scrubbers, we tended to stick to whatever kind of shelter we could find sometimes it was awful, like the time we spent a thunderstorm in the propped open remains of some long empty dumpster, and sometimes it waswell, better. We were miles out from legitimate Swarmer territory, and thus way the hell out of the way from where

any self-respecting scavenger would be looking. Sounds kind of counterproductive, right? Swarmers rip through, devouring everything and leaving havoc in their wake, but scrubbers tended to hang out right behind them. Why? Because they were messy, and they left things behind. Things I wouldnt really want to think about too much, yeah, but things that could be used for survival. And by the time I was old enough to be scavenging myself, a place that was empty of Swarmers was pretty much guaranteed to be place that had been picked clean. If you were a little crew, like ours, you could find a nice slice of heaven just by being far enough ahead or behind the Swarmers and Shamblers (to say nothing of the bigger groups of survivors) as long as you were very, very careful. Like I said, wed found our little place outside of the ranging swarms for the time being. It was, if you really think about it, a pretty obvious place to go to scavenge and to get away from it all one of the shanty towns that had arisen around the perimeter of a Sanctum complex. For a few months, maybe even a few years, after the Sanctums sealed themselves up, people seemed pretty content to stick around the sites of the big domes. It was really, really dumb to be honest, but I get the herd instinct. After all, the Sanctums were safety; who doesnt want to be as close to that as possible. And there were other reasons, I guess. Some folks probably figured that sooner or later, the Sanctums would open up and let them in (boy, were they ever wrong). Other folks wanted to be close to the friends and relatives that were lucky enough to be inside. And some folkswell, I mean, has there ever been an easier group to prey on than people with an excess of hope and a huge gaping deficit of common sense? As somebodys whos picked over bodies for a living, I kind of understand the attraction. So did the Swarms, eventually. If the major urban centers pre-fall had been a playground for the hungry bastards, the shanty towns mustve been like fucking Christmas. Packed full of people and all of their worldly possessionseven today, if youre lucky enough to find a ring town standing, I guarantee you youll find the ground stained red with blood. For the first few years after the Ring Town Massacres (as Ive taken to calling em, though I dont think itll catch on), I figure the places mustve been impossible to scrounge just because of the smell. And after thatwell, they were kind of like the huge hulks of shopping malls or supermarkets too many stories about what happened inside, too much danger for not enough reward. Youd have to be an idiot to go inside. Which, Im proud to say, we werent. We were just young and a little full of ourselves. And lets face itif anyone felt like going in, itd be a group like us. Lilah didnt put too much stock in the stories, Sammy didnt know about them, and I...well, that was all part of being a Reader, I guess. Wed go anywhere, because we were the only people that didnt rely on second-hand information to live our lives. Id read the hand-scrawled notes people had left in the rings, seen the newspaper clippings (the ones that started out on printing presses and ended up as hand-written missives), and generally read enough about the places to know that they were only as dangerous as the rest of the world around us. In other words, still pretty dangerous just not exactly cursed. And we were greedy little shits, to be honest; a three-man crew might be relatively easy to feed, but we were scavengers even amongst a world of full of them. We had, to be perfectly honest, no way to defend ourselves from predators, Swarmer or otherwise. So if we could find ourselves a

potential hotspot that most people wouldnt go towell, it really wasnt much of a choice for us, was it? In this particular spot, I was lucky enough to sleep in an honest-to-god bed. I cant even tell you how rare the things were if they hadnt rotted out or been burned, the metal in the springs had enough value that theyd been taken apart long ago. But out in the rings, stuff like that seemed to be generally untouched by the Swarms, and since most folks were too afraid to go in, wellwe were able to capitalize on it. It wasnt particularly large or comfortable, not compared to the things Ive seen since, but it was great for the three of us. It sure as hell beat hard-packed dirt, anyway. Our little gang spent the night curled up on the piece of forgotten luxury, actually enjoying sleep for once. And when we woke upwell, it was kind of like being in a pre-fall supermarket. In the rush to leave the rings (or pick it clean, depending on ones general level of insanity), there had been a lot left behind. Caches of food left in well-hidden holes in the ground, functional tools left in rusted-shut tool boxes, and even a few portable shelters that hadnt been snatched up in the rush out. There were also the ever-present piles of pre-fall cash, which were actually a lot less useless than you might imagine. In a pinch, they made pretty good kindling for a fire. And after a life of using leaves and bark for personal hygienewell, you can pretty much imagine for yourself, right? Anyway, we did our best to exploit the resources of our temporary little home, trying to do what we could to enjoy the quiet times and gather up what wed need for when we inevitably have to move on. Even though the area was picked clean, it was definitely a possibility that the swarms would move back through they always seemed to be attracted to any kind of human prosperity, and even though our group was tiny it didnt mean we were necessarily safe. There was also the possibility of another group of scrubbers coming in to find the loot, and as remote as that was, it wouldnt be unheard of for another group with an influential Reader or just in dire enough straits that theyd brave the rings. And if that happenedagain, just three of us, and none of us were exactly heroic warriors. It was better to be prepared to move on. But what kept us scared, really scared, was the possibility of the Shamblers stumbling on to us. Shamblers werehell, maybe still arethe things of every scrubbers nightmares. Swarmers were fast, aggressive, angry, and hungrybut definitely still human. You hurt one, and it feels it. Ive even heard stories of lone Swarmers actually remembering where they came from, sparing friends and family from the horrible stuff they usually brought with them. Shamblers, thoughShamblers were straight out of old pre-fall horror stories. You kill a Swarmer, you get a Shambler. You kill somebody whos a viral carrier, and you get a Shambler. Hell, Ive even heard stories that if you eat enough tainted food or drink enough tainted water, youll end up a Shambler after you bite it just out of sheer bad luck. And Shamblers were nastydumb, but nasty. They mostly just milled about, harmlessly picking through garbage and having boring little lives shambling around the countryside, kind of like some of the slower scrubbers Ive met. But if they

catch sight of live preythey just dont stop. Theyll follow you no matter where you go, and never stop. They dont get bored, distracted, tiredthey just keep coming. Now, you can fool a Shambler most of the time. Stay quiet, mask your scent, stick to moving at night and keep from making loud noises, and youre safe. But what always worried us was the possibility of surprise. See, Shamblers didnt swarmthey were generally solo creatures. So they could literally be anywhere, inside any shelter or behind any rock. You never knew when one would just be behind the corner, and youd be royally fucked despite your best precautions. All it took was a second of bad luck or a minute of slacking off to seal your fate. Some folks claim that Shamblers couldnt be killed, or you had to do something special to make sure they stayed down. Bullshit, really. I mean, yeahthey dont process pain like a person, but you just have to fuck up the machinery enough to overcome that. Take off the head, sure, thatll kill em I cant really think of anything it wont kill. You can knock out the vitals a clean shot to the heart or the gut or whatever and itll kill them the same way a human will, although it just might take time. And electricity worked pretty well, too, zapping those old dead nerves enough to send them back in to regular old dead folks mode. That all depended on being adequately armed, though. The guns were hoarded just about as preciously as foodand if we were ever able to find one, find ammunition for it wouldnt exactly be easy. Most folks like us depended on stuff that was a lot easier to maintain knives, hatchets, home-made bows or big heavy sticks. And you could deal with just about anything with one of those, if you were actually strong enough or fast enough to make a difference. If I havent made it abundantly clear yet, that definitely didnt describe us. I was pulling guard duty for our little clique, and I had an old knife that Id kept sharp and rust-free. When it came to dealing with other people, it could be a life saver people usually werent fast enough to stop it, and I could surprise them and buy us enough time to run like hell. All of those little advantages were pretty much worthless when it came to Shamblers, though. We might as well have been unarmed. Our best betour only bet, really, was to be on alert all the time and make sure they never caught wind of us. Im sure youve heard stories like this enough times to know that we werent anywhere near prepared or alert when the worst finally happened. We were actually relaxed, and it seemed pretty natural at the time. We had four walls around us, windows, doorsit was a house, an honest to god free-standing house to sleep in, and those things were pretty much built to make you feel secure, right? Sammy was bunched up under a pile of blankets asleep, oblivious to the world, and Lilah and I werewell, oblivious for other reasons. It wasnt very often we got to spend any kind of quiet time together not afraid for our lives, and wed been making the most of it while Sammy snored away the night. It was dangerous and stupid for all kinds of reasons as Lilah well knew, all things considering but what can I say? We were just kids, and things happen. Theres still nights where I wake up sweating, wondering exactly who made the noises that attracted the damn thing. Ive always told myself it was Sammy snoring (Id always said it could wake the dead), butwell, it could have been any of us. We shouldve controlled ourselves better,

exercised the same sense of caution that kept us alive for so long, but we got sloppy. Lazy, foolish, or justlost in the moment, Im not totally sure. Maybe it doesnt matter anymore, but the fact remains that something we did, some careless word or noise brought one of the damned things right to us. Sammy heard the noise first. That was his way while we were too caught up in ourselves or our thoughts, Sammy would know what was going on in the world around him. I remember him shaking me, begging me and Lilah to get dressed and run. A part of me wanted to argue, to ask why, but I knew better; something in Sammys voice let me know just how serious the situation was. There was fear, primal fear, there that Ive rarely heard before or since. And there was really only one thing in our world to be that afraid of. Lilah took charge, just like she always did. Shed managed to get dressed faster that I did, and she was already listening at the door, trying to figure out where the thing was. I wasuseless. Freaking out. I had to stuff one of the dusty old blankets in my mouth just so I wouldnt start screaming. Think less of me if you will believe me, by the time you finish this story, youll have plenty of reasons to do that but you try coping with the knowledge that a living death sentence might have pulled up your number. She came back to me, and put my head in her handsfor just a second, anyway, till she slapped me as hard as she could. That brought me around pretty fast, Ill tell you. She looked me calmly in the eyes, and she told me, Ray, youve gotta keep it together. It might not know were here yet. Theres still a chance. Weve still got a chance. I think it wouldve made me feel better, if I hadnt looked at Sammy. He wasnt as calm as his sister, but he wasnt as bad as me. He just lookedsad. Sammy wasnt big on the intangibles in life. Maybe that was part of being such a good Hound, or whatever, but he always seemed to have a fairly good grip on how things really were, not how we wanted them to be. And it was like he knew, at that moment, that the damn thing knew exactly where we were. As for me, wellI was trying pretty hard to cling on to that last shred of hope that Lilah was giving me. Naturally, thats when we heard it barreling through a wall. To think of it from the outside, it was probably kind of funny watching a bunch of teenagers try to scramble through a small window at the same time, but it didnt seem so funny to us. It was probably the longest minute of my life, desperately trying to claw my way out of that little room. Any kind of feeling of camaraderie or friendship pretty much stayed behind, at least for a minute. We were all simply focusing on our own survival. Im pretty sure that Ive still got a scar from Lilahs nails or Sammys teeth, and I dont even want to think about what I left on them. But I made it through first thats me, the consummate coward, leaving behind a woman and her little brother from a literal monster. Or, you know, as I like to think of itit was just me being a survivor. Thankfully, I didnt have to have that weighing on my conscience for very long, because all three of us actually managed to scramble out of the room before the damn thing got through. It waswell, have you ever seen a corpse, out on the scrub? It wasnt really like that at all, even though you think it would be. Its skin was pretty dry, yeah, but

otherwiseyoud almost think it couldve been a person. Sure, its clothes were in tatters, but whose werent? It just looked like a very, very angry person that had let their hygiene go even further to seed than most of us. Except for the eyes, those dead, red swiveling orbs that pretty much defined the things. Thats what kind of pulled the whole thing together the eyes. I mean, apart from thosenot so scary. But throwing those on the heap? Kind of reinforced that they werent quite human anymore, you know? And the thing in the room, well, definitely not human at all. And despite Lilahs assurance, the thing definitely saw us. Trust me, when something like that locks eyes on youyou just know. If wed had more time, we mightve gone to any of the dozen places where wed stashed travelling gear. Hell, if wed had time, we might even have tried to come up with some kind of plan to survive. But time was kind of at a premium, so we did the only thing we could do we ran. Ive read before the humans, regular humans, were once the top predator on the planet. Even so, weve still got a hell of a lot of prey left in us from before we got to that point. It all boils down to a reflex people used to call fight or flight either run like hell, or stand your ground. For the three of us, the fight portion didnt exactly come into the picture at any point. And when youre dealing with an apex predator like a Shambler? I think it came more down to either running away, or killing yourself. Because thats what facing down one of the things wouldve beensuicide. I guess it sounds like Im going through a lot of work to justify why we ran away from the Shambler. And maybe I am; in the years since it happened, Ive met a lot of people that would consider it an act of cowardice. Ive never really understood the concept of throwing away your life for pride, or honor, or any of that stuff, but maybe folks have a point when it came to that particular situation. Running from a Shambler pretty much just delayed the inevitable. At best, we were just hoping for a little more time, not a permanent reprieve. I dont try to justify it because Im ashamed of what I did, or what we did; Ive got plenty to regret, and that decision isnt one of them. What I want people to understandyou to understand, I guess, is that when you think youre going to die, sometime just getting a little more time is worth abandoning all the logic in the world. Thats my story, anyway, and Im sticking to it. That aside, some of the things we did were pretty stupid. For one, we all took off in the same direction. Herd instincts, especially in the scrub, are usually great. They keep you alive, if for no reason than it makes division of labor a hell of a lot easier. But in this case, it would definitely work against us. Shamblers track you until they take you out but they dont exactly have the worlds greatest memory after that. For whatever reason, they dont exactly distinguish between an individual and a group. Whoever they caught scent of firstthats who theyd go after. They wouldnt care that the rest of us were aroundso if we split, wed each have an equal chance of survival. Staying together? That just meant that once one of us went down, the others would be close enough for the Shambler to pick up a new scent. Stupid, stupid move, but wed been so used to travelling togetherwell, we moved out of there.

Okay, so people have this belief that Shamblers are slow. Thatsnot really true. Swarmers are faster, yeah, but I can tell you from experience that Shamblers can keep up a pretty good pace. They just dont sprint. Whatever keeps them moving after they went down, it definitely goes for conservation of energy. So while we were running, we could hear the damn thing coming after us. Going out the window probably saved our asses it had to get out of the house, no mean feat for whats pretty much just an ambulatory stomach, but it wasnt impossible. Wed made it a fair distance before we heard the footsteps behind us. With no other sounds around, each footfall sounded like thunder. If itd been human, the Shambler wouldve either been calling out after us, or making some attempt to be quiet. Nopeit just kept going, mute but making the best time after us that it could. As for us, we just kept running as best we could. Ever been chased? Think it sucks? Now try doing it with a group. When youre being chased alone, you can kind of make a personal strategy for getting clear of the situation. You can zig-zag, you can hide, you can rely on your own body to tell you when you can pour on the speed or when you need to slow it down. In short, you get to plan your own strategy. With a group, itsdifferent. Even when youre trying to get away, youll find yourself setting a pace that the slowest member of the group can find. Youll worry about the positioning of the other people, youll be constantly worrying about whether they can keep up, whether they need help, and if youre as paranoid as meyoull inevitably wonder when theyre going to try to ditch you. Nothing like a little extra uncertainty in a shitty situation, right? And that uncertainty, for me at least, meant that I wasnt concentrating as well as I should have. If I was alone, itd just be me and the Shambler. But with the group, life got a whole lot more complicated. We made our best attempt to weave through the abandoned ring. We darted through rubble, jumped privy ditches, and generally tried to make following us as difficult as possible. Not that we thought that the Shambler couldnt follow us over these things if nothing else, theyre great trackers. No, it was to gain a little bit of a lead; Shamblers might track well, but agility isnt exactly high on their list of strong suits. Anything we could go over or under would be a couple of seconds that thing would have to spend going around. I guess we were hoping that the seconds would add up. And for a few minutes, I think, they did. At least we had the presence of mind to keep running deeper into the rings, instead of out. While getting out might sound attractive, youve got to remember one thing getting out of the rings meant getting out into scrub. Sure, the terrain might be easier to cross, but that meant itd be easier for the Shambler. And easy for the Shambler meant death, period. Not that going in would be much better. As we ran towards the center, the areas began to get a lot more run down. Kind of weird, but it was pretty indicative of the old world everyone started out in the center of the ring, in crappy temporary housing waiting to get inside, and eventually as hope started to wane, people started moving further and further out to get space. The inner districts, though, were still packed tight. Thats where the hopelessly nave and those who didnt have the resources to build out further were packed in, and there were a hell of a lot more of them than there were folks in the outers. The sheer density was an advantage for us on top of just running away, we could actually

hope to hide out in the makeshift urban jungle. Maybe lose the Shambler for a couple hours, maybe even days. Enough time to think. Maybe enough time to plan. Sammy found our temporary haven, just like he always did. Even though finding stuff usually led to a non-stop stream of emotional outbursts, he was quiet. He justI dont know, somehow saw the indentation in the ground where someone had dug out a cellar. Wordlessly, he veered off from us and made his way over to the glorified hole and shut himself away, quick as Id ever seen him move and as quietly as he was able. I like to think that Sammy was quiet because he didnt want to be heard. That he was still trying to lead us to where we needed to go, because he put on a pretty big burst of speed to get there. Frankly, I just dont want to believe that Sammy was enough of a bastard to leave both of us behind. Right or wrong, Ill stick with that. When we saw him heading over, neither Lilah nor I followed immediately. I mean, lord knows I wanted to run into that hole and hide forever, but rational thought finally kicked back in enough for me to make an informed decision. We still didnt know whose scent the thing had; if it was me hed locked on to, running straight for the cellar would just shorten the usefulness of the hiding place. And if hed scented on Sammywell, it was better not to be where Sammy was, right? That was my excuse, anyway. Lilah mightve been a little more altruistic than I was, and she mightve been trying to confuse the trail enough to buy us all a little more time. For my part, I broke off from my path at a hard angle, scrambling up on to the roof of a shanty and trying my damndest to stay above ground for as long as I could. It was a two-fold advantage first, it might actually confuse the Shambler if my trail suddenly stopped at ground level, and second, it actually allowed me to see the damn thing again for the first time in several minutes. Pretty much as Id expected, the Shambler was making slow but steady progress following us. He was probably a few minutes behind on the trail, stopping from time to time to sniff the air or listen for us. That waskind of unexpected, I guess. As far as Id ever heard, Shamblers hunted by scent. It was the quickest and easiest explanation for how they seemed to follow people so well. But this thing was hunting us properly, acting a lot more like a human tracker than I ever wouldve thought. As terrifying as that may have been, it was actually a lucky break for us if it had to stop to find out where we were, that meant it would be taking even more time than we had expected. Armed with that knowledge, I continued on my circle around the shanty-tops and made my way back towards the relative safety of the cellar. The trip back around was at once terrifying and uneventful. Logically, I knew the Shambler was behind me a good ways. And realistically, there was only a one in three chance he even gave a damn about where I was. But being out alone, in the dead remains of what had been a thriving settlement was creepy on its own. Just knowing that there was a chance I was being hunted made me jumpy as all hell, and Im not ashamed to say that there were tears in my eyes when I finally made my way back to the cellar. Sammy was kind enough (or stupid enough, depending on how you look at it) to have left the door wide open and I sprinted as hard as I could to get back inside. Only second behind me was Lilah,

finishing up her own route. With the three of us safely (more or less, anyway) inside the little shelter, we shut the door quietly and hunkered down to try and wait out our pursuer. Have you ever been in one of those really awkward situations where everyone wants to talk, but no one actually wants to be the first to say something? We were definitely in one of those. Most of the problem, at least for me, was trying to put everything in to actual words. I mean, there was so much, wasnt there? I was glad to be alive. Scared to death to be hunted. Angry as hell because someone had ruined the good thing wed had going, but feeling guilty at the thought that it might have been me. I can only imagine what they were feeling in the situation probably the same thing, but who knew? Part of me likes to think they were in the same fix that I was, but another part clings to idea that I was just overtired and overtaxed, and they were just silent because they didnt want upset me. Stupid, right? As if thatd be on anyones mind in the situation. The situation was a nightmare for any scrubber. I mean, surewe werent exactly known for being a social lot as a whole, but stories always got told. Having a Shambler on your tail in the rings? Wed all heard that story a million times as we grew up. It was the ultimate cautionary tale about how letting your guard down could get you killed. Its one thing to know, intellectually, that the situation was a bad one to be caught in; it was another to actually be living out that particular slice of hell. So, yeahmaybe we were all just too deep in our own fears to talk. Certainly makes me seem like much less of an idiot, anyway. Or at least I hope it does. So there we sat, huddled in a dirt cellar, waiting for death to track us down. I think we all knew what had to be done, for the good of all us we needed to split up. Like I said, sticking together was essentially group suicide. If we split up it waswell, it was just slower suicide for us, wasnt it? Sammy was a hell of a hound, but I doubt anyone would consider him anything other than a liability in most cases. I was pretty much useless by myself Id be able to forage along for a little while fine, but I was in no shape to survive by myself. And Lilahwell, Lilahd probably be picked up by some travelling group somewhere. Her own personal skills aside, what theyd do to her probably wouldnt be a lot better than death. And shed never leave Sammy, not even if she knew hed been the one scented. Who knows, maybe she wouldnt have left me, either. Wed been together for a long while, longer than Id stuck with any group since Id been old enough to wander. For better or worse, it seemed like we were stuck together, through thick or thin. Life or death, we were a family. Thats what I thought, anyway, as we huddled under the dirt and waited for death to find us.

3. The cellar, believe it or not, made an excellent hiding place. Excruciating hours passed as we tried to outwait the Shambler. We didnt move, didnt speak, didnt dare do as much as breath heavy for what seemed like an eternity. But time passed, and it almost seemed like the worst had blown over. By the movement of the shadows through the small crack in the cellars hidden door, I knew that more than enough time had passed for the Shambler to have searched all around our little hiding spot. That didnt mean we were free or clear, since the Shambler would eventually find a way to pick our scent back up, but it gave us some much needed breathing room. I almost said something, when I actually started to look at my travelling companions. Theyd bunched together on the far side of the cellar, putting as much distance between us as possible. That waswell, a bad sign. Yeah, they were family, and I know how close they were, but it kind of felt different to me. Like they were purposefully trying to keep me away. And thats when it dawned on me theres more than one way to get rid of a Shambler. I know I said that Shamblers track you down until they kill you, but thats not entirely true. Whats more accurate is to say that Shamblers track you down unless something better attracts their attention. Like I said, Shamblers dont really have a great memory. They just go after whatever it is that they catch the scent of exclusively human, mind you, but any one of us will seem to do. So if you cant kill one of the damn things, your best bet is to hope that some other idiot makes the same mistakes that you did and gets

scented before it finds you. Given the familiarity with the bastards and the general level of precaution most scrubbers took, there wasnt usually much of a chance of a Shambler scenting two separate folks before it could kill one of them, but its been known to happen. According to folks whove been lucky enough to see it, it was like having a death sentence lifted. What no one ever talked about, of course, is that there were some folks that would go out of their way to get a Shambler to scent on another human when they were being chased. Lead it through a settlement, or flag down a caravan, something like that. It was generally considered to be as dirty a move as one could make (and out on the scrub, thats saying something), but it was known to happen. And, wellit finally dawned on me that Lilah and Sammy could pretty easily ensure their own survival if they made sure that the Shambler scented me, and soon. After all, they didnt know for sure it didnt want me anyway. If Id been in their shoes, Id sure as hell be thinking it was worthwhile to get rid of me. Survival of the biggest bastard, that was the name of the game. So from that point on, I knew I was playing on my own team. I figured if they were going to turn against me, I needed to be ready to turn the tables on them. In retrospect, I feel like an ass for how fast I was willing to write the two of them off. There was absolutely no reason for them to keep me around. I mean, yeahI could read, and Id helped them find a few things they otherwise wouldnt have found, but I was a drain on their resources and I knew it. Being sentimental wasnt exactly a big scrubber trait, but they actually seemed to keep me around because they genuinely felt like I belonged with them. Youd think that Id at least have an inkling of that towards them, and usually I did. I really did, honest. They were good people, way more decent than most Id travelled with. Hell, even at the beginning of our life and death jaunt, I still felt like I was connected with them. But as soon as I had an inkling that they might have been feeling another way? It was like something switched in my head. I stopped thinking about them as my friends, my partners, mywhatevers, and started thinking about them as resources that could get me the hell out of the situation. Like I said, I dont feel good about doing it, but it was the smart thing to do. They were obviously fine with it in theory, so why shouldnt I have been? So we let a little more time pass. As it started to grow dark outside, I started to feel like it was time to get moving along. I told Lilah and Sammy that staying put wouldnt help us out any, and that maybe we could lose the thing by going all the way through the rings and back out the other side. I left out the part about that making it harder for them to throw me in to the waiting arms of a monsterbut did the really need to be said? Didnt seem like it at the time, anyway. They didnt really say much. Okay, Sammy never said much, but Lilah wasnt exactly contributing much to the conversation, either. Maybe I surprised them by taking charge of the situation I was usually content to go wherever Lilah led. Maybe Lilah just didnt want to talk to someone shed mentally written off. Who knows? For whatever reason, they agreed with me and that was enough. We set off again, trying to move as silently as we could through the dense squalor of the inner rings.

If the outer rings were relatively intact, and where wed been hiding started to look roughwell, the real inner rings were a disaster. It went from free-standing shanties and makeshift huts to old tents and bedrolls pretty quick. The best shelters in the area seemed to be crude lean-tos. But who knew what the place had been like when people had actually lived there? Maybe this was just where they came to wait for the Sanctum to open up. Maybe it was just a communal meeting spot. The only thing that was obvious about the inner ring was that this was where the shit had hit the fan a long, long time ago. When people tell the stories about the Sanctum rings, theyre almost always talking about how the Swarmers tore through the inner rings like demons. Swarmers were always attracted to places where people congregated, and the density of population around the Sanctums mustve shined like a beacon to them. It took a little while for them to get there, yeah. The rings mightve housed tens of thousands of people, maybe even hundreds of thousands, but that didnt really compare to the millions who lived in major cities or in the suburbs surrounding them. Besides, the rings were never meant to be permanent everyone who lived there meant to get inside the Sanctum eventually. And as the years passed in the rings, maybe people got complacent, or thought that the population was too low for the swarms to hit. Damn, were they ever wrong. As we know now, the swarmsll hit anywhere. The Sanctums just had the good fortune of being off the beaten path. Their orgy of destruction consumed the big cities first, and then the suburbs, then the townsbut eventually, they started stumbling on to the rings. And once they got therewell, what was going to protect people? The outer rings mightve had a chance, with the actually houses and maybe even some minimal protection, but the inner rings werent more than a feeding ground. As we walked through, it was easy to see what had happened there. Tents and lean-tos ripped to pieces, the remains of people and animals strewn about casually. When it had happened, thered probably been a lot of blood, too, but all we could see were the dark stains left those few objects that had remained. The survivors of the rings had high-tailed it out of there as well as they could. Most of them were from the outers, though. Down in the inner rings, the devastation was almost total. And with most scrubbers being afraid to touch the ruins, it was like walking back in to the past. And damn, was the past ever rising up to meet us as we made our way deeper in. As the yards turned in to miles, we started to see the tell-tale signs of the Sanctum itself. I mean, it wasnt like we hadnt noticed it before the huge concrete walls, the giant domethose things dominated the landscape for miles around. But there were other, more subtle signs. The density of refuse started getting greater. There were the rotting remains of poster-boards and signs, message to loved ones inside the walls. Rusted metal signs warned people to stay away from the walls, or theyd be shot. A perfectly clear paved was actually visible once we got past the muchIve heard it called the Path of the Righteous before, the road that the chosen few would take in to the Sanctums when they were chosen. No one built on top of themmaybe it was on accident, but maybe it was by design. Maybe no one wanted to block the path just in case someone was going to let them all in. Who knows, right?

It made travelling easier, thats for sure. I guess its pretty tough to describe just how big the rings were if youve never had the pleasure of having to try to trek across one of them. Where wed started was an outer ring, probably five or six miles away from the Sanctum proper. Getting out of the outer rings was easy enough wed done it in a few minutes worth of running like hell but going the rest of the way through was slow going. Like I said, the inner rings were packed pretty tight, and with the debris from the massacres thrown on topwell, it just wasnt easy. Picture walking through a dense underbrush of garbage and remains, and youll get the picture. Oh, and just for fun, throw in a few rusted out car hulks just to make life a little harder. God only knows how they managed to get the things in there in the first place they had to have belonged to early settlers who just werent able to get the things out once people started piling in. If I was anywhere else, Id probably have stopped to rifle through it, maybe even spend the night inside. Ive slept worse places, after all, and once you get those rotted seats out of the back a car can make a nice little nest. The point is, it was a long and tense walk to get from our little cellar towell, wherever the hell we thought we were going. The plan was just to get out the other side of the rig, but beyond that, nothing. Intellectually, I knew that meant wed be back on open scrub and multiplying our general hardships by a good bit, but I hadnt really thought it through. I just wanted to get out of the rings, away from the Shambleraway from Lilah and Sammy, too. Looking back on it, maybe things wouldve changed once we got out of the rings. The immediate danger wouldve been gone, after all, and we could really work out a plan to survive. But when things break between a group of people, especially a tight-knit group like we had been, they never seem to go back together exactly the right way. My plans to get as far away from them, paranoid as I may have been, probably would have worked out for all of us. Sure, it might have ended with me curled up alone and hungry on some god-forsaken piece of the scrub trying to fend off a pissed-off undead terror, but heysometimes certain doom is better than uncertain doom, right? And at the time, it really seemed better than waiting for an inevitable betrayal from the rest of the group. I guess I could stomach the idea of a long, drawn out death but couldnt really handle the idea of my friends turning on me. Does that say something about me? As it turned out, getting out of the rings wouldnt be a problem. What Id failed to take into account was the sheer size of the Sanctum at the center of the whole thing. The path wed been taking brought us more or less dead center to the thing and that was not exactly a great development. The main feature of the Sanctum, the one thats always made them most famous, were the reinforced concrete walls that surrounded the little havens. They were ten-mile wide circles, all topped off by some kind of retractable dome-like covering. If youve ever seen a picture of an old football stadium, youd be right on the moneyjust on a much smaller scale. What running in to the wall meant for us was an inability to cut through the center of the ring. It was a good five mile hike in either direction, through clear and open fields. Somebody had taken a lot of care to make sure that nothing got anywhere near the Sanctum walls, much to our detriment. Wed have to trek across open land just to reach the other side of the Sanctum, and then make our way

back out. So wed be unprotected, wide out in the open for at least the better part of a day while the damn Shambler could keep tracking us. And that didnt even bring in to account all the time wed need to make it back out of the ring itself, once we finally reached the other side. Say what you will, but maybe the old scrubbers had one thing right about the rings it wasnt getting in to them that was the hard part, it was the getting out. Normally, Im a pretty pragmatic guy. Freaking out in the face of walking nightmares aside, Im generally pretty good about doing what I have to do to survive. The extra time on the trip, the extra dangerit sucked, but it was life. But at the moment, I just couldnt process it. Maybe it was the Shambler, the running for my life, the sheer scope of all the devastation that Id seen in the last day. Maybe it was the breaking of our little travelling group. Hell, maybe it was just the adrenaline leaving my body, but I can definitely remember justshutting down. I just stopped, unable to move on. Id seen it happen to plenty of people out on the scrub before every so often, all the troubles of survival just got to be too much, and folks would just give up. Ive seen men and women just lay down in the middle of open fields, not caring what might come after them. I never really understood the appeal, until I made it to that place myself. It wasnt too hard to give up on the idea of trying to survive an un-survivable situation. It just felt better to sit down, and let whatever was coming after me come after me. So I sat. Lilah and SammywellI dont hold any grudges. They knew the look well enough, and if they were planning on leaving me anyway, it mustve seemed like a good way to do it. It couldve been my imagination, but it almost seemed like Lilah wanted to stop for me. To say something, anything. What, I dont know. Words of encouragement? Apology? Hell, maybe she was just thinking of taking my little survival knife and putting me out of my misery. But whatever it might have been, they moved on from me without a word. That was the last I saw of Lilah and Sammy. A couple of kids just walking out into an open field, trying to cling to a slim hope that they could survive. Maybe theyre still out there today. Who knows? Maybe they lost that Shambler. Maybe they found a way to get rid of him, or joined up with a bigger group that could take care of the problem. I know that the survival rate for folks like us wasnt very high back thenhell, it isnt a lot better now. Even if they made it out of the ring alive, theres not much of a chance theyd be alive today. If something didnt kill them, itd be an accident, disease, or just malnutrition. I like to think they made it, though. No grudges here. We all did what we had to do to survive. After they left, I have no idea how long I sat there in front of the Sanctum. I know there were periods of light and dark, but as for how manywell, I couldnt tell you. I had just shut down. Its a little bit disconcerting to lose entire days of your life, but at the time it didnt really seem to matter all that much to me. By the time I came out of it, a few things were perfectly clear to me.

One, I was well and truly alone in a way I hadnt been in quite some time. That boring childhood I glossed over? It was boring because I was fortunate enough to get taken in by a group of folks that were kind (or stupid) enough not to let a little kid starve out on the scrub. I spent the first nine or ten years of my life with them. After that, I ended up floating from troupe to troupe, trying to ply my little bit of a trade as well as I could for the next four or five yearsand the last two or three Id spent with my recently departed colleagues. It was a little scary, Ill admit, but survivable. Two, I had obviously not been the target of the Shambler. If I had been, sitting out in the open field wouldve made it pretty easy for the thing to find me, right? Now, theres a slight possibility that during my missing time I had spontaneously grown some kind of superhuman ability, utterly destroyed the beast, buried its body parts, and gone catatonic again. Unlikely, though. What it really meant was that the thing was going after Lilah or Sammy. Yes, I probably could have still caught up with them, let them know I wasnt the one being hunted, and done what I could to assist them. But I didnt. Maybe I was a little bitter that they left my behindbut maybe I just didnt want to see what might have happened to them. Third, and most pressing, I was absurdly hungry and thirsty. Even somebody as used to go without as I was couldnt function without water for too long of a time. That was a legitimate problem I had plenty of containers of water and packs of food, but they were miles back in the ring. To be honest, I doubt I couldve located the caches even if I had been in any condition to make it back. The point had been to hide them, after all. That had been Sammys job. After all, you want the guy whos good at finding stuff to do the hiding, right? Perfectly logical, as long as you discount the fact that you could be chased by an unstoppable menace, get separated from the group, and then have to count on your own meager foraging skills to actually find the damn things again. As ridiculous as it sounds, that actually was a little short-sighted on my part. What can I say? I let my guard down, and I was paying for it. With no food or water in the immediate area, I was kind of at a loss. I remember suddenly finding it very funny that I had escaped being utterly demolished by a nightmare creature only to get to experience the joy of dying of thirst. Maybe it was just morbidly funny, but come onwhat else was I going to do? I laughed. Loudly and obnoxiously, I laughed until I started crying. Making loud noises isnt exactly a great survival trait in a scrubber, and I dont think I had been that loud since I was a crying baby. What was there to lose, anyway? So what if a Shambler got me? Thatd be quick. I didnt have to worry about slavers or raiders or any opportunistic bastards killing me for my stuff as far as I knew, I was the only person for miles around. Well, the only person on my side of the wall, anyway. All I can say is that I mustve been delirious by that point, because it seemed personally reasonable for me to start banging on the walls and yelling at the people in the Sanctum. I never in a million years thought that anyone could hear me. It just seemedwell, funny. What could it hurt?

Hey! Let me in! I started yelling, over and over again. God only knows how many people had yelled that before me, but what did I have to lose? Of course, when the hole in the wall actually opened up, that seemed perfectly reasonable, too. At least it did, anyway, before I passed out.

Quarantine

1. When I came to, I was fairly sure I was in hell. It was dark, the air was stale, and I was surrounded on all sides by unforgiving bare rock. For someone thats lived their entire life out under the open sky, thats pretty much hell in a nutshell. I mean, sureI wasnt in any immediate danger. I wasnt in any pain or anything. Hell, I wasnt even feeling thirsty or hungry anymore. I was just trapped, and for a scrubber thats as close to hell on earth as one is ever likely to find. We survive by always have a place to run; the first rule of surviving on the scrub is always knowing when to run away. The lack of soul-rending pain kind of puzzled me, though. Its not that a whole lot of people spent a lot of time preaching out where Id lived, but in the face of the Fall, spirituality was one of those things that just kind of survived. Id been told as long as I could remember that when bad people died, they writhed in eternal torment for all time. At that moment, I wasnt doing any writhing at all far from it. As I inspected myself, I found that someone had actually taken the time to take care of me. The cuts and scrapes Id sustained during my little jaunt through the rings seemed to be largely patched up. And I feltfull. That was a weird feeling, let me tell you, because full was not a feeling I was exactly on speaking terms with. Like most folks, I tended to get just enough nutrition to make it through a given day. Gnawing hunger was kind of a familiar part of my life. And it was gone. At that point, I started to figure that folks had been giving the whole hell thing a bad reputation. Sure, you knowclosed in, no way to escape, but things were otherwise pretty good. If I had to spend the rest of eternity staring at four stone walls, it wouldnt be so bad; at least Id feel nice while I was doing it. As I pondered what to do with my eternal damnation, I began to notice ever so slowly that there was light pouring in through a crack in the wall. Walls which, I started to realize, were incredibly regular and smooth. As ifsomeone had taken the time to carve out this little cubby. You might think that this would be a comforting thought. I was somewhere man-made, not in hell. Instead, I began to feel a much more familiar kind of dread. No wonder I was full, I thought Id obviously been caught by some roaming cannibals who were fattening me up for a feast. Acts of random kindness werent unheard of out on the scrub, but they certainly werent things that tended to happen to me. If someone had found me and started feeding me, it had to be for some kind of nefarious purpose. That was just the way my world worked. While I decided to go through my list of possible horrific tortures (being eaten alive was actually pretty low on the list), I neglected to notice the reality that the amount of light coming through the crack in the wall was increasing. It wasnt until the door was actually open that I noticed that it waswell, a door. Or open, for that matter. And there was a veryoddlooking person standing in front of it. I say odd, because thats how she looked to me at the time. In the years since, its become a more common occurrence, but at the time it was almost bizarre. To begin, she looked

healthy. Theres no other word I can really use to describe it. She looked like a person who hadnt really ever known what it was like to do without the physical necessities of life. Instead of the usual skeletal hardness, she just seemedsoft. Healthy, damn near rosy skin. Long, blonde hair that actually looked shed taken time to take care of it. And the restwell, Im a gentleman. Ill just suffice to say it looked a good deal nicer than what I was used to at the time, and leave it at that. She didnt look like some kind of pre-fall celebrity or anything, but to me she was a vision. What really stood out, though, was that she was clean. Out on the scrub, we had a certain idea of cleanliness, but that usually just meant dipping yourself in water occasionally so you wouldnt smell rancid, and trying your best to knock the big clods of dirt off of your clothes. But she was scrubbed, clothes and skin and all. To me, it seemed almost decadent. After all, who had the time or resources to take care of themselves that well? Id heard stories about angels before, beings of absurd beauty that flitted about beingwell, beautiful. She certainly fit the bill. Hey! she shouted, having looked at me for all of five seconds. Hes awake! Any ideas of some kind of personal encounter with the creature pretty much went out the door with that. Rushing to her side was a collection of other people, unfortunately very male in appearance. Like her, they were disturbingly clean and well fed. They were a good deal bigger than most scrubbers Id ever seen. We tend to be built for survival, not to be impressive. Even the biggest Lifters Ive known paled in comparison to these guys. Later on, Id hear that they tended to work out to achieve that kind of muscle mass, but at the time I didnt have any clue what it meant. I just wrote them off as some kind of freakish semi-human hulks, and decided to be suitably cowed by their appearance. Apparently, my pathetic state was enough to elicit some kind of sympathy from the folks, because the guarded posture they assumed relaxed almost immediately. The woman actually came further in to my little room, kneeling down to get closer to my floor-bound posture. What were the first words that vision of loveliness spoke to me? I wish I could say they were something profound, or endearing, orreally anything other than enraging. She asked me if I could understand them when they spoke. Thats right. Me. Remember, out on the scrub, I was a Reader. If any of us out there lived and died by our reputation for having a brain in our heads, it was people like me. Amongst the scrubbers, I had the reputation, by default, of being a fucking genius. If I didnt, I dont think I would have lasted all that long. Of anything I would expect those people to ask me, it wouldnt have been that. But thats what she asked. She had a nice voice, mind you, not all scratchy and hoarse like most Ive heard in my life. But she asked me, slowly, like she was talking to an imbecile, Can you understand my words? We, friends. No hurt you. Nice.

Alright, Ill admit the basic idea wasnt really all that wrong. They way I mustve looked to themshaggy haired and dirty, dressed in faded rags like some kind of modern-day caveman, I wouldnt have expected too much. But really, has talking slowly and loudly ever helped get a point across? If the person cant understand you, speed and volume probably wont be the universal translator. And when they canit just makes you look like an ass. So, I laughed. Not the crazy laughter from before, but just a short, spiteful bark. Yeah, I can understand you, I replied, in that same slow monotone. You dont have to treat me like Im an idiot. She blushed. Kind of attractive, in a gee, Im humiliated sort of way, but regained her composure quickly. Im sorry. We werent sure you people still spoke English out there. Its been a long time, and most of our figures assumed a total breakdown of One of the men gently motioned to her, and her voice trailed off. He waswell, if hed been a scrubber, hed have been old. But as it was, the dark skinned old man still radiated a sense of vitality and youth. I mean, sure, his hair was gray and his skin was wrinkled, but compared to people of his apparent age out on the scrub? The guy looked like he was in the prime of his life. I dont think theres any need to overwhelm the young man with projections right now, Annabelle. After I picked myself off the ground, the man extended a hand to me. I took it, a bit warily, but was greeted by a hearty handshake. Im Doctor Douglas. A real pleasure to meet you, young man. Its been some time since weve had a visitor here, and I apologize if our accommodations havent quite been up to your usual standards. I blinked for a moment, trying to comprehend the statement. They obviously had no idea of what standards were like for people like me. I was dumbfounded as to how I could communicate that, though. So I settled for letting him know that they were fine. He smiled at that; they all did, in fact. A cheerier people Id never met. Now, why dont we get you cleaned up and see if we can get a few questions answered, yes?

2. Cleaning was a process, let me tell you. As someone who only had a familiarity with plumbing based on the descriptions in a book, a hot shower was a real eye-opener. Hot water simply wasnt something I ever experienced; and once I did, I really didnt have any urge to stop. I managed to scrub myself down with soap (another first) and do my best to wash out my tangle of hair. I cant tell you how long I stayed in there all I know is that they eventually had to turn the water off of me. From that, it was drying off with an honestto-god towel and a change in to a newish pair of clothes. I tried to ask them where my old rags had gone they were in pretty good shape as far as I was concerned, but their general consensus was that they needed to be disposed of. I wasnt exactly going to complain; the plain shirt and sturdy work pants theyd given me were worlds better than anything Id ever owned before. From there, I was directed ever-so-kindly to meet with the Doctor in his office. The room, by their standards, was actually fairly spartan. Just a functional desk, a few chairs, and a bookshelf. To me, though, it was a treasure trove. The books were all old, but not in the crumbling condition Id been used to finding them in. Im sure the Doctor was saying something to me when I got in, but I have no clue what it might have been. I just remember being entranced by the books. They werent anything special just a random collection of novels, but they seemed amazing to me. It mustve shown, because Dr. Douglas picked up on it pretty quickly. Ah, youre literate, I take it? Id always wondered if literacy had survived outside. I shrugged, still concentrating on the books. Not really. Most people cant make out more than a few letters at best. Some of us still know the trick, thoughI mean, its a valuable skill, and I trailed off, as his words finally caught up with me. Wait, outside? I asked, dumbfounded. Okay, sothat would mean Iminside? Inside what, exactly? The Doctor looked at me with an amused expression. Ah. How much, exactly, do you remember from the last several days? You seemed to be in a fairly...unresponsive state. The last thing I remember was passing out in the rings. Not much of anything after that, really. I responded. I didnt like the sound of last several days being used in conjunction with me not remembering things. Chalk it up to my natural paranoia, but missing time made me nervous. One of our observers found you beating on our walls, yelling at us to let you in. As you might imagine, its been quite some time since someone had actually done that. Since you piqued our curiosity, we decided to take a look at you. You were in fairly poor shape, so we decided to bring you in to the Sanctum and try to get you back up on your feet. Despite the nonchalant phrasing, I felt like someone had smacked me in the gut with a hammer. I was in a Sanctum. An actual, real-life Sanctum. On the inside. Me. Can you understand what a big deal that would be for a scrubber? There are enough of the damn things scattered around our migration routes that weve all seen them. Theyre all foreboding and powerful looking, sure, but theyre probably the subject of more stories

around scrubber fires than anything else. For most people, they were a wonderland of comfort and joy, filled with every good thing the storyteller could imagine. There wasnt supposed to be any work, and sickness, any painnothing. It was as close to an idea of heaven as any of us could really grasp. But even for those of us who werent quite so superstitious about the places, who still had the ability to look over the data for what they really were, they still sounded pretty damn nice. Guarded from the elements, full of adequate amounts of food and waterno danger from the swarms or other people? Hell, I guess it was still heaven for those of us who knew better. me in. And I was inside of one. I had actually stood yelling outside the walls, and they let

That, as you might imagine, struck a chord with my natural paranoia. After all, Id spent the last lord knows how long in the rings, looking at the remains of all the people that had tried to get in to the Sanctums before me. I mean, the places were pretty much made for people to be kept out. That was actually the point survivors stay in, everyone else stays out. Simple and effective. So why would they let me in? I asked as much, hoping the answer would be something easy. Maybe policy had changed in the several decades since the rings were destroyed. Maybe they had been secretly taking in stragglers for years, but no one knew. Hell, maybe it was just simple human kindness. If it existed anywhere, I figured, it would have to exist in the Sanctum. Unfortunately for me, the answer wasnt anywhere so simple. To be honest, he said, we werent really sure what to do when we found you. As you can imagine, its been quite some time since anyones tried to make contact with us. Not since the regrettable incidents with thewell, never mind that. Im sure you saw enough evidence of that as you travelled here, yes? I bristled a bit at that. Calling the ring massacres a regrettable incident was one of the larger understatements Id ever heard. Of course, it was ancient history for them. And theyd never had to deal with the repercussions, so it was entirely possible that I was reading far too much in to the statement. But I nodded in agreement, biting my tongue, and motioned for him to continue. Weve been looking to gather more data on the outside world for some time, and your coming was quite fortuitous. We had hoped that youd be able to provide us with some kind of information immediately, but when we found you in the state you were inwell, Im sure you can understand that it was necessary to bring you up and around first. That having been done, and I hope quite satisfactorily so, we were hoping to ask you a few questions about your experiences outside of the Sanctum. I relaxed a little at that. Information for some life-saving care? That was pretty much described how Id managed to survive out on the scrub for as long as I had. My only concern was being able to adequately answer their questions. And believe me, it was a fleeting concern anything I didnt know, I figured I could lie about. What harm could come from that, right?

I actually passed a little bit of time in the Doctors office, answering a number of personal but unimportant questions. You know, the usual getting to know you stuff my name, what I did, that sort of thing. Explaining my job as a Reader seemed to both interest and dishearten the old man. I think he was sad to see how generally illiterate the population had become, but somewhat entranced by the idea of roaming scholars who kept battled unknown terrors to preserve the lore of the land. That mightve been a gross exaggeration of what we did, but it never hurts to try and make yourself look good, right? Better than saying that I spent most of my time reading cans to figure out if they were poisonous or not, and occasionally sussing out the words on a map for someone to try and find a better place to scavenge. What harm could come from that? This is another one of those things, looking back, that I really regret doing. After the small-talk was done, the Doctor led me to another group of clean and pretty looking folks. They seemed somewhere between amused and interested to see me, but that was alright it wasnt hostile, so that seemed pretty good to me. Well, apart from feeling like some kind of a freak, it seemed pretty good, anyway. Alright, all pretensions of being some kind of tough survivalist aside? It actually kind of sucked. Have you ever just had a group of people youve never met just sit and stare at you? Its awkward as hell, let me tell you. Its a little nerve-wracking, to be honest. Yes, this is still coming from the guy who had, just a few days earlier, been running for his life from a Shambler. What can I say? Emotions dont always make sense. So, after a few minutes of flop-sweat inducing panic, the panel of people in front of me actually began to speak. No one bothered to introduce themselves this time Im really not sure that they were willing to acknowledge that I was actually a person there in front of them. All of their questions seemed pretty neutral, but the phrasing wasoff. You know how when you ask things of a person, you generally try to show a little respect? Like theyre doing you a favor? Well, someone hadnt told them about that. This was more like I washell, I dont know. It was like I was some kind of talking guidebook, and they didnt really need to bother with any pleasantries. Most of the questions were about the condition of the world outside the Sanctum. To be honest, I kind of fudged a lot of answers. They wanted to know about things like weather patterns and rainfall, tectonic activity and tons of other stuff I wasnt exactly sure about. I mean, come onwho the hell knows this stuff? Maybe if theyd foundhell, I dont know who they could have found that would actually know that. I dont think Id been outside a few hundred miles of scrub and mountains in my whole life, and I was considered to be relatively well travelled. What was I supposed to tell them, exactly? Old folks say it rains a lot more than it used to, the weathers not as nice, and one time Im pretty sure the ground was shaking but I mightve eaten some fruit that went bad? I had a feeling this wasnt exactly what they were looking for. So I embellished a bit. Told them that the climate was relatively steady, though there was some argument as to exactly whether or not thered been an increase in precipitation, that there was limited seismic activity, and that as best we could tell there hadnt been too much marked change since the Sanctums themselves got sealed off. The last bit was true, at least as far as I knew a lot of animal

and plant life had been taken out by the swarms even before the Sanctums shut their doors, and I hadnt heard too much complaining from old-timers about how things were missing during my lifetime. Other questions were a little bit easier I let them know that you still didnt see a hell of a lot of animals walking about (leaving out the fact that if they were out there, we were eating them), that there was still a lot of small plant-life but that most of it wasnt exactly life-sustaining (thus why we called in the scrub), and that there was plenty of water out there in lakes and streams, and that there were even caches of stored materials dotting the landscape (ignoring the fact that there were inevitably people hoarding all of it by whatever means they deemed to be necessary). All in all, I made my best effort to paint the world as it existed as neutrally as possible. Its kind of hard to go wrong with neutral, right? If you make things sound too dire, people wont believe you. If you make them sound too good, it inevitably comes to bite you on the ass as soon as they look for themselves. Yeah, neutral was certainly the way to go. After those wonderfully general questions, they decided to ask me more about people. Those were the questions I had less of a problem answering. Sure, I qualified everything by saying that it only applied, as far as I knew, to the people in the general vicinity of the Sanctum, but I actually tried to answer these questions relatively honestly. The first question I was asked was about the state of civilization. It was all I could do not to laugh at that one as it was, I just told them that we didnt have one. I told them how the breakdown of cities and infrastructure had led fairly quickly to self-contained communities having to fend for themselves, and how the inevitable movements of the swarms eventually took even those apart. I described, in very nearly accurate detail, how the closest thing we had to civilization consisted of the larger bands of folks that had the ability to quickly exploit the land and move on before the swarms swept back through. I told them how the majority of us survived as gatherers and scavengers, sticking to relatively small groups that tended to change fluidly. I described how we tended to view ourselves by work roles about the cookers and lifters, the hounds and docs, the hunters and readers. Imight have embellished how important readers were to the bands, just a little bit, but I wanted to sound authoritative of the subject. Can you really blame me? I figured it was just a little bit of harmless self promotion at the time. I talked at length about how most of us scavenged for a living not so much for things like food any longer, as most of the non-perishable foods had long since been hoarded, eaten, or gone bad, but for tools and materials we could use to make our lives a little bit easier. I tended to avoid our little superstitions about the rings and the Sanctums, instead attempting to play up those aspects of scrubber life that made us sound like industrious survivors. Of course, I couldnt really find a way to hide all of the nastier parts of our lives, and I decided to pick and choose what to tell them. I mentioned, at least briefly, about the roving groups that exploited other scrubbers. I talked about the raiders that would smash through a camp and take everything, including lives. I talked about the slavers that had no problem picking out promising looking children to use as workhorses and for far less savory uses.

As I got on a roll, maybe more came out than it should have. I let them know about the practices of abandoning children when the parents couldnt find enough to eat. About the routine ostracism of members from camps because they didnt pull their weight. The lack of family structures. The abandonment of technology and reason for superstition and fear. I mightve been a little bitter, mightve painted it an excessively cruel lightbut wasnt that kind of my right? Hey, if I hadnt been left behind so many times, someone else mightve gotten to come here and tell the story, and they wouldve put their own slants on it. Anyway, I left a few things out that I didnt feel were relevant. I didnt talk about the flesh-eaters, the cannibals that didnt mind picking up the human remains left behind on the scrub. I didnt feel the need to mention the extremes of starvation we usually had to subject ourselves to, or conditions we usually found ourselves living in most of the time. Maybe I was embarrassed, in front of all of those fine looking folks, but I didnt want to admit how very tenuous our grasp on existence was compared to theirs. Id never really considered myself someone overly compelled by pride before, but I apparently had enough left in me that I didnt want to seem utterly pathetic. Probably a moot point, since theyd already seen me at my worse, but I also didnt talk about the walled fortresses that occasionally dotted the landscapes. If there were holes in my story, it was because of those places. What was I supposed to say, anyway? That there were people out there who had made a better go of it than my people? That we traded as much scrap and trash as we could with them, but Id never seen the inside of those walls? I have no idea why I found it so important at that juncture, but I didnt want them to know about anyone else. If I could make the world seem like it was just the Scrub, maybe I wouldnt seem so bad. After those questions came the inevitable following queries about the reasons theyd be locked in the Sanctums in the first place the swarms and the Shamblers. I wished I could have given them better information than I did hell, I still wish I could have given them better information. All I could tell them was the worst they could have expected. The swarms were still very much alive and active, at least in this part of the world. They still rampaged through the countryside, destroying anything that happened to catch their fancy. We still couldnt figure out why they did it, what it was that attracted them, or how they managed to stick around after so much time. I told them about how wed still, very rarely, see mini-swarms pop up little groups of people whod suddenly lose it, cause chaos and then leave to join up with the main swarms. We lived our lives on their time tables; swarms tended to come and go when the weather was tolerable, so we would always make sure to either move out of the area during certain seasons or stick to the more remote spots. If anything, they were the reason that civilization wasnt able to pick itself back up again. Itd be insane to even try. About the Shamblers, I could say even less. I didnt know why some folks ended up Shamblers when they should have been dead, but it still happened. It was rare, but still

regular enough that there were some pretty gruesome burial practices used across the scrub. I told them about our superstitions, and about the facts Id been able to glean through talking to other readers and getting my hands on what little information I could still manage to locate. I even shared the story about my own very recent encounter with a Shambler leaving out the whole screaming like a woman and having a mental breakdown parts, and possibly playing up the somewhat treacherous roles of my former travelling companions. Any way I told it, I guess, it wouldve let across some vital information they were real, they were still around, and they were still a pretty big threat. After Id answered all their questions (and it took some time, let me tell you), theyjust left. Not a word to me or anything, but they just filed out of the room. I dont know if I upset them, or if they were just naturally really rude. It was the Doctor that actually ended up collecting me again, thanking me profusely for all the quality information Id managed to impart. From there, he led me through a series of winding corridors, down in towell, I cant really think of a less melodramatic way to put it, so her it goes: I got led to paradise. The room was, as Id come to find out later, actually kind of sparsely decorated, but it looked amazing to me. There was a bed, smaller than the one Id spent the night in a few days back, but clean and comfortable. There was a writing desk and a chair, and a bookshelf with a few shoddily-bound paperback editions. What surprised me the most, though, was the little antechamber with an honest-to-god working toilet and a sink. The sink was amazing water, cool and refreshing, whenever I wanted it. And someone had actually left out a basket of fruit on the little desk. Fruit! Yes, we still had it out in the scrub, but it was generally hardy, tough and tasteless. This wasI mean, for a guy like me, it was crazy. There were things there that I had read about but never actually seen. Apples, grapes, even an orange. I idly wondered where they had actually been able to find them as I gorged myself. Its entirely possible the Doctor might have tried to talk to me, but after I went into the room I kind of retreated to my own little world. He must have eventually left, because when I finally came out of my food-induced madness, I was alone. For once, that just seemedpeaceful. I didnt feel like a target, I didnt feel unsafe. Between those four walls, I felt like I had all the support I needed. It was a weird feeling, but an altogether good one. I dont think I had felt anything like that since my childhood, if Id even felt it then. I spent time, Im not really sure how much, enjoying the comforts of that little room. I dove into the paperbacks on the shelves. I ate as much of the fruit as my body would allow. I even felt a tiny tinge of joy in using the indoor plumbing. I was fully prepared to spend the rest of my life there, to be honest. It wouldve been the world on the outside, and I had ridiculously low standards. I know I was in there long enough to start eyeing the bed, but it wasnt to be. Instead, the Doctor came back. He had news for me. Thats another conversation Ill never forget.

In light of everything youve told us, we were wondering if you wouldnt mind staying with us for a little while. Just so we can sort out the information youve given us, you know. If you like, wed very much like the opportunity to try and integrate you in to our little community here. After all these years of relative isolation, my colleagues and I thought this would be an excellent chance to inject some new blood into our little enterprise I was absolutely floored by that. He was phrasing it like it was some sort of burden for me! As if I had anything better to do. I wasnt one to look a gift horse in the mouth (not that Id had many chances to do so), but even in that case I had to cover my bases. I tried to hide my enthusiasm as I replied. That sounds great, and allbut whats the catch? What do you want in exchange? The Doctor looked almost hurt by that. In exchange? Well, of course wed still like your consultations about life outside the Sanctums, but if Ive offended you by my offer, Im quite sorry. Given the state of the world, at least by your description, it was the consensus of my colleagues that you might prefer a chance to get away from it all, as they say. If it is your wish to return outside, I completely understand and we can begin making arrangements to Hold on, hold on. Im not offended, I promise. It just seems like a very good deal to me, you know? Id be more than happy to stay here, give you guys whatever help you need He smiled at that. Lovely, just lovely. There are a few protocols that well have to follow, but Im sure we can get you integrated with our little world in no time

3. I wasnt sure what he meant by being integrated, but it ended up being a long and not altogether unpleasant process. What he really meant, I think, was that they had to make sure that I was safe enough to function in the Sanctum. I cant really blame them. Theyd been an isolated society for the better part of a century. There were all kinds of things that I could have represented to them, and not all of them were positive. So their first order of business was to quarantine me, and make sure that I didnt pose any sort of threat to them. In retrospect, that was kind of funny - me, a threat but I think it was something they took deadly seriously. The first step was quarantine. As the doc would explain to me, they had to be sure that any trace ofwell, whatever it was that made Swarmers swarm wasnt in me. So I needed to be isolated. In fact, everyone who had been in contact with me thus far would have to join me in quarantine, just to make sure. No wonder that little panel of examiners wasnt exactly friendly just being in the room with me meant having to spend a month of their lives stuck in observation. I was able to learn a lot about the Sanctum during that time in quarantine. Annabelle, the woman whod initially spoken to me, ended up drawing the short straw and having to bring me up to speed until we could get back in to the Sanctum proper. I like to think it wasnt all that bad of an experience for her, really. Despite my weird looks and less than perfect hygiene, I was one of the few real strangers shed ever met. Most of our conversations were long and informal, more stories than anything else. I told her about life out on the scrub, editing out the parts that made me seem like less than a great guy, and she let me know about life in the Sanctums. Coupled with the books they let me read, I actually managed to piece together a lot about my new world. The Sanctums werewell, a lot more involved than any of us out on the scrub had ever expected them to be. The ten mile walled circle was just there for the raising of crops and livestock, with a few necessary community buildings up there. No, most of the Sanctum consisted of underground levels, built one by one as the little colonies needed to expand. Schools, government, business, living quartersall of it was buried under the earth, safe from the elements and from the potential attentions of a hostile world. Id always kind of wondered how the Sanctums managed to support all the people they were supposed to have supported but were built in such a short amount of time. Apparently, the governments that built them started with the walled in sections, but kept on building the underground structures even as the future residents were being selected. Im not entirely sure if the building was ever supposed to stop if I asked how deep it went down, I usually just got a shrug and a guess. There were people constantly assigned to digging and building, checking out structural integrity and other bizarre building activities I didnt fully understand. It wasnt as if the population grew that fast one thing Annabelle made very clear was that the population was fairly tightly controlled. They just constantly wanted to be prepared forwhatever the hell it was that they were becoming prepared for, but they were doing it with a hell of a lot of gusto.

When they werent explaining to me how the Sanctum was set up, they were trying their damnedest to bring me up to what they considered to be a civilized level of education. God, was that ever an eye-opener. Remember, my entire life had pretty much been defined by my relative level of education compared to my fellow scrubbers. I may not have been the brightest f the readers out there, but compared to most folks I was a freaking genius. Compared to these people, though? I was barely considered to be functional. And I do mean barely from what they told me, all of my vaunted abilities pretty much added up to the levels of their younger children. I could puzzle out words pretty well, sure, but my vocabulary was pretty much built out of survivability, and wasnt terribly broad. Turns out a lot of things that I had been reading for years werent actually what I thought they were. Thank god they were from articles and not cans of food, or I probably wouldnt have lived long enough to learn exactly how wrong I was. And those words I did actually knowwell, I didnt always have enough context for them to make sense. And lets not even start talking about all the non-English words that made their way into the language. I was completely lost at the beginning, but I picked up most of it quickly. To be honest, a good deal of the words and phrases that pepper my language during this account, I learned once I made my way to the Sanctum. If nothing else, thats what Ill always remember those days for finally getting to master my own chosen craft. Once I got the language down, I ended up getting a crash course in mathematics. Arithmetic was easy enough. Algebra, geometry, calculus, trigwell, that went less well. Eventually, I managed to get enough of the necessary bits down that they could safely give up on me. I would never be anything like an engineer or anything, but I think I could get far enough in my day to day life and not embarrass myself. Then came cultural history, art, music, literatureI felt like my head was going to explode. Apparently, this was all stuff that people were expected to be able to digest by my age. I tried, rather unsuccessfully, to remind Annabelle that itd taken them the better part of two decades to digest it, but she seemed confident that I could get through the major parts in the limited time Id have underground. What I was most interested in, though, was everything they tried to do to catch me up on life in the Sanctum. The level of regimentation was pretty mind-blowing, especially to a free spirit (by necessity, not choice, trust me) like myself. Births were heavily regulated. They happened at a pretty good pace, but unregulated births were strictly permitted. They didnt get rid of the kids, though thats where my mind went, but Annabelles shocked look pretty much let me know that it wasnt going happen. Instead, they froze the little bastards for later she told me that there were probably dozens, if not hundreds, of little guys waiting to be born at any given time, and theyd be thawed when it was necessary. After that hurdle got passed, children were communally raised. Like, really communally raised parents didnt enter the picture. Apparently they cribbed the idea from some guy called Plato, but they said it was to ensure that community bonds would always hold out in spite of any sort of family pressure. I guess they expected me to have some kind of problem with that Annabelle kept trying to tell me about all the emotional bonds that were formed and how it worked out so well, but I didnt really have a problem with it. I tried to explain how family bonds werent really that important out on the scrub, but she actually tended to beI dont know, saddened by the fact. Shed later tell me that

she always thought that in a freer society, itd be more possible to have families. Finding out that it didnt always happen that way was a little bit disappointing, I guess. They allowed for (to my mind, at least) a remarkable amount of freedom for the kids after that. By the time they reached my age, they were allowed to experiment with the various careers out there (something she called Career Days, as if that was supposed to have some kind of meaning for me she always laughed when she said it). They had a year or two to figure out what they were going to do with their lives, and then entered into apprenticeships with more skilled folks. Seemed reasonable to me it was more like what we did out on the scrub than Id have thought, but it seemed to have a lot more to do with personal choice than necessity. If niches werent filled, they tended to encourage children to fill those spots later. It was simple, easy, and I could point the holes in it even from my vantage point. But it seemed to work for them and I decided to keep my mouth shut for the time being. Annabelle, and everyone else I talked to, for that matter, tended to keep the conversations focused on the things the children of the Sanctum did. It took me a little while, but I actually figured out that they actually figured that those things were supposed to apply to me. I wasgod, I didnt really know at the time, and Im still not so sure how old I was then. I was probably somewhere between sixteen and eighteenmy early life was a blur, and I dont think anyone had made a very big deal of marking my years on the scrub. To the folks in the Sanctum, this effectively still marked me as a child. Once I figured it out, I cant say that I was particularly pleased. Out on the scrub, you were an adult the second you were able to find your own food. Everyone had to pull their weight, and quickly or theyd be abandoned. I kind of expect thats what might have happened to me. For all I know, I was a slow developer. But compared to the kids in the Sanctum? It was nowhere close. I tried my best to convince the people in quarantine of that, but age seemed to be a fairly important factor to them. So, you know, I did my best to avoid it and learn the information that they werent offering me. You know, the generally good stuff. Unfortunately for me, Annabelle seemed to be generally in the dark about that. Thats the first time I actually realized she was anywhere near my own age. That seemed fairly reasonable to me, but it was just surprising how little she knew about her own environment. I dont think she couldve lasted a day out on the scrub like that, and she agreed with me. She seemed to think that was funny, actually. She told me it was a good thing shed never have to deal with it, and I did my best to sound like I was joking when I told her she was right. If I had to take Annabelle out on the scrub back then, I think the only think she would have been useful for was as Shambler bait. I think that might have even been a stretch, to be honest. Maybe a good trade for a slaver, or a cannibal, or, you know, just for a bit of Okay, I can imagine your expression at the moment, and give me a break. I was young, greedy, and full of hormones. Of all the bad things Ive done, I think having the idea

of using a pretty girl for less than honorable purposes is fairly low down on the list. Depressingly low, actually. Anyway, since Annabelle ran out of information that I could use, I decided to hit up a number of those nameless, faceless panel members. I think they held a little bit of a grudge for the whole missing their lives for a couple months bit, and I kind of understood that. But I still managed to get some information out of that. It was a good way for all of us to pass the time, I guess. What I learned for them waswell, practically useless to me, but good to know. The Sanctums werent necessarily just made for the purpose of getting through the swarms. Apparently, the various governments began to prepare for worst case scenarios long before the worst actually came true. Having all of the skilled people placed together was great, but the Sanctums had been meant to do a lot more of than just simply keep a few thousand people together. There were, apparently, giant frozen banks ofwell, stuff, kept down on one of the lower levels. DNA from people and animals, eggs and sperm from donors both human and otherwise, and a number of other nasty little bits and pieces that made up the animal life of the planet. There were massive seed banks that were meant to preserve the plant life. Hellthere was even a library of machine schematics, and the contents of the various patent offices of the world. These were, in their terms, arks of civilization, made to take care of civilization. And the Sanctums werent nearly as isolated as Id been led to believe. One of the first big projects for those in the Sanctums was the digging of a massive series of tunnels from one set to another. Itd apparently take decades, but they were done. Massive roads connected the each one. It still took weeks, if not months to traverse the tunnels, but it was safer than travelling above ground. Travel was restricted, but every decade or so groups of Sanctum-dwells would end up being shipped around to promote genetic diversity. It sounded brutal to me, but they let me know that it was a pretty strongly vied for honor to get to travel to another Sanctum. It was as close to adventure as any of these folks would be able to get. The biggest problem theyd had in the recent past was an earthquake that had caved in their portion of the tunnels. As far as they knew, theyd be able to dig it out in time for the next major tradebut it still isolated far more than even they were comfortable with. Like an idiot, I actually brought up the idea of travelling overland. God, I wish I hadnt had done that. Fortunately, its not an idea they immediately picked up on. Beyond thatwell, the Sanctums were pretty actually fairly impressive. They were powered by some kind of nuclear powera concept I didnt really grasp, but they made it sound ominous enough that I didnt really want to know. I imagine it was somehow related to the bombs they tried to drop on the swarms back before the fall, but who knows? What mattered is that it kept things running smoothly and clearly. Water got fed in through

underground streams that were fed through underground aqueducts. Food was farmed, animals were cared forit was like a little slice of the world that once was. The best information I got, though, was from one of the maintenance technicians. Part of what kept the Sanctum working as well as it did was, just as in the case of many enterprises in the past, a vast yet unseen working class. This tech, a guy named Joe (short, generic names seemed to be a mark of his class of people) was an absolute font of information. In particular, it was the short of information that no one else seemed to want to tell me. You know, the juicy stuff. For all the nice things in the Sanctum, it sure as hell wasnt a perfect place. While it looked huge from the outside, the space inside was pretty limited. Makes sense, right? The ground level was mostly farmland and grazing areas. There were a few areas on the upside reserved for public use, but beyond that? Most people spent their lives underground. Time up top was fairly severely rationed, on what was thought to be a more or less fair basis. Of course, that tended to crumble due to the social order. And damn, was there ever a social order. In the early days of the Sanctum, there had been a fairly strict ordinances involving breeding. In shorteveryone had to do it. It broke apart a lot of relationships and families, but it went a long way towards trying to rebuild the human race. One would, you know, assume that itd tend to lead to a certain degree of equality (since everyone was more or less related to everyone else after a few generations), but the opposite happened. Certain parentages ended up getting certain advantages, mostly due to their status as the early leaders of the place. Guess what one of those advantages ended up being? Yep, time up top. As time went by and levels kept getting built lower, the people with the less favorable geneswell, they ended up going lower, too. The people in charge kept finding reasons for them to spend longer undergroundand eventually, you end up with a class of people that never saw the sun. Joe called them underdwellers and he was proudly one of them. They all looked pretty much the same to me (underdwellers tended not to exactly have to the best tans, though), but apparently there was a pretty strong bias against his people. For their part, they were proud of the lives theyd made for themselves, and incredibly untrusting of those who got the privileges of living under the sun. Joe, for whatever reason, seemed to like me. I dont know if it was because I was making some of those privileged folks uncomfortable, or just because I was an outsider, but he felt obliged to make me feel as at home as he could. He told me all the nasty secrets about the Sanctum, and I shared what I could about the outside world. I wish there was something amazingly diabolical he couldve shared about the Sanctum; it certainly would have made it easier for me to hold something against the people there. But all he could really come up with were kind of generic rants about the strong exploiting the weak. Color me jaded, but that pretty much sounded like the way the world worked to me. I mean, I guess some of it would be nefarious for the people who lived

in the Sanctum. He told me aboutthings I didnt understand at the time. Stuff about gene codes, breeding programs, weird things thatreally didnt affect me. At all. But I tried to summon up the best bits of outrage that I could, just to keep Joe on my side. It never hurts to have someone on your side in a strange place, you know? Between Joe and Annabelle, I was getting a fair view of what the life in the Sanctum was like. It wasnt perfect, but what was? Compared to the scrub, it seemed alright as long as I could weasel my way into the better classes of the society. Of course, that would involve work, and time. I had no problem with the former, but I had no idea whether or not Id have the latter. Instead, I decided to focus on trying to make the best of my time there. Quarantine, all in all, wasnt too bad. I got to spend time with Annabelle, which was a plus. I mean, yeahshe was kind of nave, but she was a genuinely nice person. She didnt seem to want anything from me, and that was a big change. She was interested in my life, all the things Id done before wed met. And hey, why not? She lived as sheltered a life as it was possible to have, even in the Sanctum. According to Joe, she was one of those privileged few that actually got to spend significant time above ground. Im sure it was nice, but the way she talked about itwell, she made it sound so damn boring. She wanted adventure and excitement. And Iwell, I guess I was that to her. And hell, why not? I guess through a really weird lens, the shit Id been through in my life might actually sound exciting to someone like her. Sure, I embellished a little bit, but in my defenseI didnt want to gross her out or scare her away. I left out some of the nastier parts of the things Id done, and some of the less pleasant. I didnt tell her about some of the things Id eaten, or some of the things Id done to survive. I did tell her about the whole Shambler chase in detail (well, sort of anyway. I didnt mention much about Lilahafter all, I was uneducated - I wasnt an idiot). She got really in to itmore than I ever expected someone would, I guess. Shame we didnt have any real time to ourselves, but Okay, you probably dont want to know about that, right? Whats important was that I was actually starting to make, dare I say it, friends. I liked it. It was a hell of a lot less pressure than the fast and loose relationships you make out on the scrub. Those last about as long as your own personal utility lasts (Lilah and Sammy had hammered that message home to me), and youve constantly got to be on the lookout for situations in which you might fuck up. And on my part, I always had to be on the lookout for situation where my partners would be the ones fucking up, because thatd very quickly mark the time to leave them. But down in quarantine, it was different. I didnt really need anything from Annabelle or Joe. As far as I knew, they didnt need anything from me if they did, they certainly werent advertising it. I could hang around them just for the pleasure of their company, and I liked that. It feltI dont know. It felt human, in a way I wasnt totally used to. I felt comfortable. I was an idiot.

Sanctum

1. Like all good things, time in the Quarantine did eventually come to an end. After being poked and prodded repeatedly by a bunch of guys in plastic suits, I was declared medically safe for the population in the Sanctum. I wasnt carrying the big, scary plague, and I was remarkably free of anything that would cause irreparable harm to the relatively isolated population. They still didnt have much of a clue of what to do with me, mind you, but they were sure I wasnt going to kill anyone just by breathing the same air. So, they did what they had to do they let us all go. Im convinced I caught a few dirty looks from some of the people who had been in quarantine, but I didnt really care. A couple of months cooped up in quarantine, as easy and enjoyable as it had been, just made me curious about the rest of the place. I just had no clue about what I was supposed to do next. It was the Doctor that gave me some kind of direction. He invited me up to the level where he lived, telling me about the excess number of quarters on the upper levels that would be just fine for me to stay in until everything had been figured out. There were, apparently, plenty that were temporarily used by people my age who were still finding their way in life. It was a thing to do, I guess living a few years on the upper levels while you figured out what career you were suited for. He not so subtly mentioned that Annabelle was living in the same general vicinity (bless the old man for that I think he wanted to keep me around as many familiar faces as possible during my transition). I was never one to turn down a free promise of comfort (even if I always found it suspicious), so I took him up on it. And damn, did up ever describe it. From the rough stone walls of my original holding cell, I ought to have assumed that the quarantine area was in an unfinished level of the Sanctum, but I had no idea how far down it was. We took some kind of moving platform up not quite an elevator, but not quite stairs, I have no clue what to call itthey just called it a lift and up, and up. It took the better part of an hour, just watching sections of wall drop below us. As we went up, the quality of those walls definitely shifted, from bare rock to sheet rock, eventually painted over with differing degrees of care. Even that eventually gave way, though, to very old, very utilitarian looking walls. According to the Doctor, were ascending to the original levels of the Sanctum, where some of the best and brightest members of the society (or, as Joe would argue later, the most privileged) made their homes. I expected that was where we were getting out, but I guess I was in for another surprise. After months in quarantine, the people who had been with me apparently had earned some significant time in the sunshine. Sowe ascended all the way up. A large section of what I had assumed was ceiling slid open and took uswell, to the Sanctum. God, it was beautiful. Every legend, every story, every tale all around the campfire about the Sanctum? That was what they were talking about. Justmiles, miles and miles of green, everywhere I could see. To this day, it was one of my most cherished memories, one of the single most beautiful things Ive seen. I hope the world youre in now is better than the world I came from, I really do. I hope you have no idea why Id be so affected by just seeing the endless expanse of fields and plants, but Id almost have to be that your world is

a hell of a lot like mine was. Dusty, brown, full of withered weeds that pass for plant life. Sure, the scrub had its own kind of beauty sometimes, but it was the kind of beauty that came from sadness, you know? This was the real thing. Im not going to lie to you when I saw it, there were tears in my eyes. I felt like everything would be okay. Fortunately, not everyone decided to stop and stare at my emotional display. Mostly, they just kind ofwandered off. Id later find out that there were recreational areas, even small buildings, scattered throughout the upper levels of the Sanctum, but to me it seemed like they were just fading in to the forest. I kind of wanted that for myself, to be honest. To fade away, never to be seen. Every new thing Id seen in the Sanctum had convinced me that I could stay in that one spot forever; the only place I think Id ever go back to was that forest, though. Of course, when I saw it, I was too overwhelmed to do much more than stare. As everyone wandered off, I was content to just drink in the sights. I didnt notice much of what went on before they all left, I guess, but I certainly noticed Annabelle squeezing my hand before she left. A beautiful landscape and simple human contactis there anything better?

2. The Doctor was pretty indulgent of my desire to stand and stare like a slack-jawed idiot, but eventually, the lift moved back down. It was a disappointment, but only just; we stopped only a level or two down from the surface in to an area that was very nearly as amazing as the topside. The first few levels of the Sanctum were actually very impressive. When I thought of being underground, I thought about dank, dark caves illuminated at best by a few sad electric lights working off of a generator. The inside of the Sanctum, though, gave every appearance of being outsideso long as you ignored the ceiling, I guess. The lights were soft, almost natural people would later explain to me it was some kind of advanced type of lighting that simulated the sun and there was plant and animal life everywhere. There were trees and shrubs, cats, dogs, squirrelsthe whole gamut of pre-fall suburban life, as far as I was able to ascertain. I mean, sureit wasnt quite the same. You could never really escape from look up every once and a while and ceiling the stark, grey ceiling, but it was very nice all the same. The whole thing seemed to be very much modeled on the old-style model of some kind of apartment complex or housing development just row upon row of doors spaced fairly evenly apart, occasionally broken up by some greenery or an odd frontage that housed a service unit or storage area. As we walked along, Doctor Douglas carefully explained the various details about the level. Each one of the doors represented a housing unit, usually one family to a unit. At one point each unit had housed significantly more of the population, but as levels had been built downwards people were able to better spread out. Between every few dozen housing units, one was able to find a commissary or a general store. Food was rationed at the commissary the Doctor explained the use of swipe cards (and what they were, how they workedyou know, things I had no idea about) and said hed have one assigned to me but people were more or less free to check out things from the general store as they wished, as it was all non-consumable. The Doctor spoke kind of disparagingly about the limited variety of supplies, but also let me know that Id find it rare to need anything. The housing unit was, in his words, fully stocked and most of the items in the store were generally for leisure use. If I felt the need, I could continue walking through the upper levels and find all kinds of things Id figured were long gone medical clinics, zoos full of exotic animals, salons, art galleries, even libraries. I perked up at the thought of the latter, but decided to save that for my own time. After a brief tour around the area, the Doctor finally brought me to my temporary place of residence. He apologized that it wasnt overly large or impressive, but it tended to suit the needs of the young people who tended to temporarily reside in them. He handed me a keycard when we got to the door, and quickly made his exit. He gave me an address for where I could find him if I needed him, and encouraged me to see more of the Sanctum during my free time. With that, for the first time in a few months, I was alone. When I opened the door, I was astonished. I had no idea what a typical Sanctum housing unit was like, but this small unit was easily twice the size of the room Id stayed

in during the quarantine. From the entrance way, there was a small sitting room with a table, a few chairs, a sofa, and some kind of cabinet housing electronic devices Id never really seen in working condition before. Past that came an actual, honest to god functioning kitchen with a stove and a refrigerator (I cant tell you how much time I spent playing with the ice maker. Ice! On demand!). Then came the bedroom complete with a bed, a dresser full of clothing and a few (mostly empty) bookshelves. And finally, to my eternal amusement, the standard Sanctum bathroom with a toilet, sink, and a shower/bathtub. The place seemed to follow the basic layout of many of the ruined apartments Id seen out in the scrub, but Id always assumed, you knowthat those were for multiple people. Who would need three rooms, after all? Apparently, me, because I took to it very quickly. I wont apologize for that remember, Id slept in dumpsters, so I was relishing the chance to sleep in multiple rooms. Of course, the first thing I did was try to acquaint myself with the features of the apartmentgod, was that really should have been a mess, right? Sure, Id seen most of the stuff before, but never in actual working condition. I momentarily panicked at the thought of actually trying to use any of itI had horrible visions of lighting myself on fire or causing some kind of wicked explosion. Fortunately, someone had thought of that the place had obviously been prepared while I was in quarantine and everything seemed to be labeled as to function and operation. Some of it was almost insultingly self-explanatory closing the door on the refrigerator but some of it was very helpful (no metal in the microwave oven, highlighted and written in very stern handwriting). But I dutifully looked over all of it, committed it to memory, and decidedwell, decided it was all lovely, but probably too much for me. Instead, I decided to go explore my new habitat. So I grabbed my shiny new swipe card (my only possession at the moment) and headed out to adventure. I started, predictably enough, with the commissary. The idea of a place where fresh food would be freely served to me was exciting. If the rations were anything like they were in quarantine, I assumed Id be able to happily gorge myself, and I was mostly right. Right in the gorging myself part, mind you the rations were way, way bigger than expected. And there was so much varietyI mean, my diet had basically been restricted to the find it and put it over fire school of culinary art, so all the spices and combinations andwow, this is making me hungry. I took a little bit of everything I could, and ate until it made me sick. Still didnt finish half of it, which was okay someone introduced me to the concept of a take home box, which stands as one of the greatest inventions of all time for me. I got some odd looks eating at the commissary, but I didnt mind. I was new, after all, and these were people who hadnt seen a hell of a lot of new in their lives. I was pretty sure that people wanted to come up and say something to me, but apparently no one found the courage. I really didnt mind that, to be honest. I was still so out of my depth that I didnt really want to try to work in meeting new people at that point. I figured thered be plenty of time for that later. From the commissary, after a brief stop back at home, I decided to see what else I could find in the Sanctum. I decided pretty quickly on the zoo I knew what that was from

reading enough books, and Id never had the privilege of seeing much larger than a rabbit out on the scrub. Big animals, after all, were just too much of a target for humans or swarmers. So, to the zoo I went. It was great. Lions, bears, monkeys, tons of things Id read about or seen pictures of but had never been close to. I was conspicuous there as well, and not just for being new. Partially, it was because I was just about as entranced by the sight of all those wondrous new animals as the small children were, but I think it had a lot to do with how I looked next to all the smartly dressed families. I was still wearing the generic work clothing Id been assigned in the quarantine, and compared to everyone else, I looked a littlerough. Well, I could take care of that pretty easily. The next stop was the salon. After a brief misstep (women, apparently, usually frequented the salons, while men generally attended the next-door barbers shop), I found my way to the correct area. Im still not sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but the people who were waiting for their own personal grooming seemed to climb over themselves to let me get in the front of the line. Guess looking like a wild-eyed psychopath will do that for you, right? The whole experience was kind of novel, really. Personal hygienekind of low on the scrub, as Ive mentioned. I had gotten in to the whole bathing routine, but shaving or taking care of my hair? Not so much. The guy cutting asked me what I wanted doneand I was at a loss. When he asked me what the hell had happened to me to make me look like I did, I shrugged. That was the end of the questioning. Over the nextwell, the next embarrassingly long amount of time, thank you, the man set to work on me like Id seen people work on chipping apart boulders. I dont know how many scissors or razors he went through, but he was definitely done for the day when he was done with me. I got to leave that day with my hair cut short and manageable, and a lack of facial hair that I hadnt felt in years. Feltvery weird, but at least I wouldnt scare children anymore, right? My next stop, and my most anticipated, was the library. Again, libraries were something I was theoretically familiar with, but most of the time I couldnt find anything that was rotted out or ruined beyond repair. This was my first chance to actually check out one of these places in its proper context. I expectedI dont know. More and less than I got. Less, because the damn place was empty. I was the only soul in there. I guess if the people in the Sanctum had access to the place all the time, they just didnt consider it special. That was a shame, because I was really looking forward to trying to get a bit of help. I got a lot more, though, because the size of the place was enormous. Books as far as the eye could see. Books separated by author, by subject, byokay, I didnt know the decimal system then, and I really dont know it now, but they used it. All of them in fine condition, all of them free for my perusal. It was a great day to be a Reader, let me tell you. That was the first time since quarantine Id really thought of myself in terms of my scrubber life, but thought of myself that way I did. I had always figured, at the back of my mind, that this stop in the Sanctum would be entirely temporary. And if I was going to a library, hellI should take advantage of the situation. With everything in there, I could acquire more than any other Reader Id met. I could learn enough to give mewell, not a free ride, but certainly an easier ride with any group that I ever encountered. I could make myself immediately useful. I mean, I didnt know what was in there. Math. Science. Medicine. There could be technical schematics, there could be secrets from the world

before the fall. All I had to do was find them, remember, and then I could be a king amongstwell, okay, Id do alright. Damn, I wish I had done more of that. I really, really meant to, but my curiosity ended up kicking my ass fairly hard. See, in everything Id read before I got to the Sanctum, thered always be other works referenced. Classic novels. War and Peace. A Tale of Two Cities. The Stand. Harry Potter. And I had no idea what they wereapparently, the cheap paperbacks which most of them were printed on before the fall werent exactly made for longevity. But here they were, perfectly preserved. And, you know, waiting for me to read them. So long, science and industry. Hello, mass-market novels! I spent weeks pretty much just commuting between my apartment and the library, grabbing stacks of books to read at my leisure. They started with the classics, but eventually I started branching out. See, there were entire sections of books written just before the fall. No one ever really referenced them, becausewell, there wasnt really anyone to reference it, or at least no one taking the time to write books about it. But there was some great material there. A lot of tragedies, actually. Not a whole lot of humor. I guess the world didnt die with a smile on its face. I did actually read a number of books that were first-hand accounts. Unsurprisingly, they were almost all from the original inhabitants of the Sanctum, and very obviously edited. They all followed the same plot industrious people see horrible things, but then are whisked away into the Sanctum. Not a whole lot more than that. The stories were almost heroic, and I could get the point with those early survivors, no one must have wanted to dwell on the tragedy of the situation. Why not try to make them feel better about themselves? Those stories accounted for almost everything. But not quite. There was onewell, it wasnt a book. It was a diary, bound together cheaply but durably. It took me a while to actually figure the thing out. The early pages were obviously from a young girl, full of a childs thoughts and scribbles. The damn thing was thick, though it encompassed several years before stopping. The girl seemed to have grown out of it around her teens, I guess. It picked back up years later, though, around the time of the fall. She talked about how she was scared, about how writing the diary had always comforted her. I dont think she found much comfort this time, though. What happened to her wasbad. There was an entry talking about the swarms sweeping through cities not her, but her parents. An entry talking about when they got to her city, about narrowly escaping and losing her husband in the process. About one of her children getting sick, and coming up as a Shambler. She didnt say what happened after that, butit was kind of obvious, if you read between the lines. Shed been tested for the Sanctums, too late. She didnt make it in, but she had migrated out to the ring. The things shed had to do to survive there were awful, but so were the things she wrote about. What had once been clear, if sad, accounts of what went on in the world. But as time went by, it got a hell of a lot less clear and more angry. It turned in to this long screed about how the people outside the Sanctums didnt deserve to live. How we were all sub-human, how we should just lie down and die for the

good of humanity. You know, the usual damning our childrens children stuff. The last lines she wrote were about her plan to slip the diary in to the Sanctum before they closedguess it worked. God, that little diary pissed me off. I get that she was angry and scared, but I guess I took it a little personally. So would you, you know, if you got to read about your ancestors not wanting you to live. Hell, I thought wed dug out a doable little existence for ourselves out on the scrub, you know? Sure, it wasnt as easy or as perfect as it was in the Sanctum, but we survived. Hell, wasnt that enough? I thought about throwing that diary away, but I couldnt. It was a piece of the past, and I didnt want to part with it. But it definitely didnt need to be readI didnt need the people in the Sanctum thinking of me and mine like that. So I decided to hide it back away in the library, where I hoped no one else would ever have to read the damn thing. Thats where I met the single most annoying, and probably most important, person I met during my whole time living near the top of the Sanctum. See, I wanted to get rid of the book, but I didnt want to be too terribly obvious about it. Not much of a problem in a place where people dont seem to go, right? Well, that happened to be the day that someone else decided to rush headlong in to the library. Actually, itd be more accurate to say that was the day that someone decided to rush headlong in to me. As I tried to carefully wedge the book between the backs of two large, unpleasant looking math texts, I got bowled over by the single roundest child I had ever seen. Kids on the scrub, rarely as you tend to see them, tend to be even scrawnier than most scrubbers. Even caring parents only feed them the bare minimum necessary to survive. This kid was a veritable ball compared to them, and he took me out right at the legs. I did the only rational thing that I could do in that case I swore like a devil, ranting and raving at the little bastard that bowled me over. Have I mentioned yet that we didnt tend to give kids much special treatment on the scrub? Well, that piggy little face got to bawling, and I noticed something a little more troubling this was no kid. I mean, he was definitely a little younger than me, but a man by the standards of the scrub. I dont know if it was the terrible amount of pimples on his face that gave it away, or the poor excuse for facial hair that was growing on his upper lip, but he definitely wasnt a kid. Which gave me even more leave to start yelling at him, I guess. Or at least it made me feel a little better about it. I dont know why I was as mad at the kid as I was, but I was furious. And I just tore into him, yelling everything I could think of, relevant or not. Which led the kid towell, cry. Serious, blubbering tears. Ive got to believe that it was embarrassing to him, because it sure as hell was embarrassing to me. I meanI dont want to make it sound like I havent ever seen a man break down and cry. It happens, from time to time, especially out on the scrub. If you have to deal with the endless drudgery and, lets face it, complete hopelessness of that lifetears happen. But not like this. I can only liken it to a snot filled

waterfall. It was like watching a plate of pudding leak. It wasgross. I mean, tears are meant to invoke pity. Its a biological response, right? To make you look pathetic. But this just made me more angry. I managed to tamp it down, though, and got to my feet. The kid looked like he wanted a hand up. I...didnt give it, call me a bastard or whatever, but I certainly didnt. What can I say? But at least when he got to his feet, he started doing something other than crying. Wait, at least is totally the wrong phrase. Thatd imply something better, right? No, it definitely wasnt better. He was freaking out a little bit (well, a lot), babbling on and on about how sorry he was for running in to me. I think I would have settled for, you know, the simple apology, but he didnt stop there. Oh, no. He had to go in to detail about why it wasnt, in fact, his fault at all. Arnold, as was apparently his name, had been running away from some other boys his age. Alright, no problem, Id been there. Of course, it was usually getting chased away from food or supplies, but Id been there. Apparently, the boys liked to make fun of him for spending too much time in the library, a place hed been avoiding for some time. Again, I want to stress that I could have dealt with that. I was Reader, you know? Respect wasnt entirely within my personal experience. It wasnt all that tough for me, but it was what it was, I guess. But no, Arnold couldnt stop there. He was terribly enthused with the fact someone else was in the library. To him, that made us kindred spirits or some crap. So he decided to very, very quickly declare me his great new friend and confide in me all of the great things about himself. About all the time he spent in the library, about all the books he read, aboutall the things I didnt really care about, to be honest. I tried to tune it out, but he had one of those high, nasally voices that tended to pierce right to the brain. He mustve rambled on for the better part of an hour. I dont think Arnold would have ever merited a mention in this story, if not for the fact that the little bastard actually saw me with the diary. He was familiar enough with the books in the library to know that this was something different, and he was pretty damn curious about what it was. So, what the hell could I do? I lied. I said it was something vitally important, something secret that I couldnt trust anyone else with. Something that I had to hide for the good of all mankind. A terrible secret that could rip the very foundation of the Sanctum apart. Somethingover the top and grand, I guess, that sounded like the kind of thing Arnold would believe, from what very little I knew of him at the time. It wasnt that hard, really. I mean, I did want it to be a secret. It just wouldnt really matter to anyone in the Sanctum but me, I guess. Apparently, appeals to society-shattering danger didnt work with a person like Arnold, because as soon as he saw the thing, he was like a little creature possessed. He whined, he cajoled, hewell, Im pretty sure he wouldve taken it right out of my hand it he could have reached. But he couldnt, so he had to settle for continually bugging me about it. Eventually, I had to give him the slip by just going back to my apartment and locking the door. I still had the diary in

my possession, because I really didnt want the little pest to get hold of it. So my plan was pretty much foiled, for that day at least. Thus began my friendship with Arnold. Every morning when I left, there was Arnold. Waiting for me. At first, it was pretty much just restricted to bugging me about the damn diary. I dont think anyone had purposefully held anything back from Arnold in his entire life, at least nothing that they wouldnt eventually give in and give to him. It had to be the voice. I had never in my life heard anyone whine like thatand I do mean anyone. I include people starving to death, dying of thirst, begging for mercynone of it. Nothing had quite the needy quality that Arnolds voice had. Unfortunately for him, that really didnt do much to faze me. I swear, I think I would have just slugged the kid and left it at that, but I was still afraid, at that point, to do something that would get me kicked out of the Sanctum. So I justkind of ignored him. I think he mistook it for tolerating him. My mistake. After he got caring about the diary out of his system, I guess he assumed my constant lack of hitting him or otherwise abusing him made us friends. Because then, the questions stopped about the diary stopped and entirely new questions started popping up. They were generally rhetorical in nature I think he just liked hearing himself speak. I have no idea if the points he brought up were intelligent or not. Something tells me that they probably werent, but I could argue with him. Whether or not he had any legitimate intelligence or not, he did manage to always have something to say that referenced things that I had frankly never really heard of out on the scrub. So Id generally smile and nod. The first time I actively participated in a conversation was when Arnold finally got around to asking just who the hell I was. It wasnt immediate at all. He had so much else to talk about that it apparently didnt rank very high on his list to mention that I was funny looking or that hed never seen me before. But to his credit, he did eventually ask me, which is more than I could say for most folks in the Sanctum. For once, I actually answered that question with the truth I told him I was from outside the Sanctum, and that Id just gotten out of quarantine. To be honest, I kind of hoped that mentioning quarantine would scare the kid off at least a little. I know the possibility of some horribly contagious disease wouldve killed my curiosity, anyway. But Arnold found it, in his exact words, terribly fascinating. So he proceeded to ask me all kinds of questions about my life out on the scrub. As obnoxious as I found Arnold, I shouldve been better about telling him about life on the scrub. I filled his head with too many ideas that just werent true. Maybe it was because of the diary; I just wanted life out there to sound better than it really was, for my own sake. Hell, maybe it was even a sense of nostalgia that was developed way too soon for my old life. Regardless of the reason, I definitely did him wrong, because I painted a pretty romantic picture of life on the scrub. I made it seem like everything the Sanctum wasnt wild, free, natural. Even to me, it sounded hokey and fake, but to Arnold, a kid who hadnt really heard anything like that outside of his precious books? Well, he took to it pretty easily.

The one good thing about my association with Arnold was that he actually knew Annabelle. Theyd gone to school in roughly the same peer group, knew the same people, frequented the same places. Hed mentioned her in passing at one point, and I decided to take advantage of the situation. It was through Arnold that Id finally meet my supposed peers in the Sanctum. Ugh, where do I begin? Maybe it was just the bad reputation that Arnold had given them, but I didnt exactly take much of a liking to them immediately. When Arnold would show me around the various commissaries or entertainment plazas that they frequented, I felt like I was in an alien world. I dont want to make it sound like I was some mature, wisebeyond-his years asshole at that point, but there was a certain gulf of experience that separated me from the rest of them. I think the Doctor had put me on this level so I could interact with people like them, get myself acclimated to how people my age were supposed to actin that, I guess, I failed pretty miserably. Part of it was just not knowing how to approach them. I had a vague idea that running up to people and acting as clingy as Arnold probably wouldnt be appreciated, but I had no idea what to do beyond that. They tended towards large groups. Itd always been my policy to avoid large groups. Large groups had their own politics, their own language, their own little world where outsiders were rarely, if ever, welcome. Part of it may have been what Arnold referred to as a self-image issue. Yes, Id gone through the process of getting myself to a decently civilized looking state, but all of themwell, seeing them just reminded me of how Annabelle looked to me the first time I saw her. They were the cream of the genetic crop, bred to be big, strong, and beautiful. I wasme. Hell, if I was in their shoes, I dont think I could have stood to look at myself with anything more than pity. As it was, who knows? Maybe they did? My lone saving grace was Annabelle. When I finally managed to see her, I was overjoyed, and she didnt seem too unimpressed herself. Shed apparently gained some sort of status just by being selected to go to quarantine participating in the new and the dangerous was pretty rare in the Sanctum, and those that did it stood out from the crowd. If she was accepted for that, I guess by association I gained some semblance of acceptance amongst her group. Well, maybe acceptance is too strong a word, but they certainly tolerated me from time to time. I mostly stayed quiet, only speaking when directly spoken to. It wasnt out of any natural sort of shyness or anything like that, I just had no idea what they were talking about most of the time. Huzzah for culture gaps, I guess. I managed to spend as much time as I possibly could with Annabelle, though. Given that my only other regular company had been Arnold, she was a very, very welcome presence. We spent most of our time justtalking. She tried to teach me more about the Sanctum, and I told her more about my life. It was nice, really. Not nearly as boring as I make it sound. For me, anyway. I dont think the words really mattered all that much, to tell you the truth. It was just the proximity to her. To my surprise, I genuinely enjoyed her as a person. In quarantine Id thought of her as nice but nave, but she definitely had more going on than that. She was witty and funny, but never mean. She was a decent person, something Id encountered very rarely in my life.

Obviously, since I was finally beginning to enjoy my life in the Sanctum, something would have to change.

Underdweller

1. After a few more days of hanging around with Annabelle and making an attempt to avoid Arnold, I was actually starting to feel pretty good about myself. Things had been progressing nicely. I was learning more about my new world, and feeling like much less of an outsider. From time to time, I began to forget that I even was one. I started to get used to a regular diet of food from the commissary, mindless entertainment, and good company. I even started to put on a little weight and a little muscle, thanks to the food and the exercise facilities. I started to have visions of a very comfortable future. I really shouldnt have been shocked when the Doctor Douglas finally got back in touch with me to let me know that my fate within the Sanctum had finally been decided. He actually sounded excited about it, telling me about what a grand thing it was that the council had decided to fully integrate me into the fabric of the Sanctum. Here I was, thinking that Id accomplished that already. But as the Doctor carefully reminded me, being a part of the Sanctum meant pulling my weight. So the council had finally decided what I would be doing. I mustve been really nave, because I began to get visions of important career paths. Maybe they were so impressed by my tales of the scrub that theyd hail me as a some kind of cultural hero, and set me to telling my inspiring story to small children. Or, hell, maybe theyd recognize my obvious talents and put me to work in a library. That sounded great to me. Whatever it was, I knew itd be something near the top of the society, and thus with Annabelle. Thats how the story goes, right? Well, not for me. I had assumed Id be called before some big meeting with the council, explaining my new role and handing down some juicy assignment. At the very least, Id get to see the high and powerful folks that were running my new world. Notwell, not quite. Not at all, actually. The announcement of my fate was delivered in a plain brown envelope stuffed hastily below my door. That wasnt a good sign, but I was optimistic enough to hope that was how things were usually done. I expected to open it and fine, at the very least, some kind of explanation. Butnothing. Just a note that Id been assigned to a recycling sector, that I needed to vacate my apartment and that new quarters would be assigned to me in the lower levels. And, of course, that I was to report immediately upon reading the letter. Well, that kind of pissed me off, you know? No explanation, no kind words, nowell, no time to wrap up the life Id started. I was just supposed to head down and startwhat? I had no idea what they did in the recycling centers, but I had a fair idea. I didnt even know who to complain to about it. And believe me, I would have loved toexcept for the fact that I was still a bit frightened that theyd toss me out for the smallest infraction. I did the only thing I could think to do I went to contact Doctor Douglas, hoping that he could explain why Id been sentenced down to the underside. He was in his office,

apparently busy with some sort of paperworkI have no idea what he was a doctor of, but apparently it often involved looking over things and saying hrm quite a bit. I know I sat in that damn office for at least ten minutes before he finally noticed that I was there. When he did, he greeted my warmly and congratulated me on my new assignment. That kind of put me off. I meanI had assumed it was some sort of punishment. But apparently, itd been the Doctors idea. I guess there was some kind of logic to it as he put it, I was already an experienced scavenger, and there was no use wasting what was already a well-honed talent. In theory, it was just as glamorous a job aswell, whatever the Doctor did, I guessbut in practice? I was picking through fucking garbage. Excuse me, but I think Id had quite enough of that on the scrub. There, of course, we didnt call it a career, we called it what we fucking had to do to survive. I had kind of hoped that they were trying to educate me for something better than that. I mean, sure, the environment was going to be nicer, but it wasnt going to be any change from the scrub at all. Talk about shattered expectations, right? Oddly enough, disappointment hadnt really ever been part of my life beforehand; lets face it, when you dont have much, its really hard to get disappointed about anything. This was the first time Id really had any kind of chance to go anywhere better. I mean, look at it this way Id been taken to paradise, taught how to be a real person, and then given a taste of a perfect lifeand then someone tells you that you have to go back to what you were already doing. It sucked. I apologize for being this bitter about it, but it was a hell of a disappointment. I mean, it wasnt like they were going to be kicking me out of the Sanctum. I should have at least been happy that they werent sending me out on the scrub. Call me ungrateful if you want, I didnt feel happy at all. I wanted to sulk, or cry, or swear, or something. But I didnt. I just took it, and that was probably for the best. Or so I thought, anyway. What really got me was that the Doctor actually seemed excited about it. To this day, Ive got to hold the Doctor as an example of the most inscrutable human being that Ive ever met. I knew him forwell, for a good amount of time, and I cant really tell you anything about Doctor Douglas. I dont even know his first name. He was my introduction to the Sanctum, as much as anyone was. Id spoken with the man on innumerable occasionsbut I know nothing about him. He recommended me to be a recycling worker. I dont know exactly why he did that. Like I said, he told me he did it for completely logical reasons, but I dont know exactly if I buy that. Its entirely possible he did it because he thought that it would make me more comfortable. After all, I was a scavenger by nature. I hadnt exactly shed that persona in my time there. Maybe he really did it for the best. Of course, there could very well be some less happy reasons. I mean, for what its worth, the Doctor definitely lived on one of the higher levels of the Sanctum. He spent plenty of time outside. Hell, he had enough pull to get me in a nice place without causing too many waves. But maybe that was just a bit of charity, and he didnt want someone like me causing troubles up top. For all I knew, he was just as bad as any of the worst topsiders Id heard about from the underdwellers. I may very well have been being punished for something. Hell if I knew then, though, or even know now. The Doctor and his motivations will probably always remain a mystery to me.

The only way to get through it was to grin and bear it. I had to at least act like I was taking it at face value. So I got my directions. Not surprisingly, it required me travelling downwards. Way, way downwards. Most of the way down, to be honest. They had a place set up for me to live (apparently, theyd had it for months) and a position ready for me to work at. Pretty much immediately, actually. The Doctor gave me a few words of parting wisdom that I pretty much ignored (you know, things like keep your chin up and be careful down there), and kindly but firmly started getting me the hell out of there. So much for making connections or anything. Personally, I just wanted to go see Annabelle again before I leftbut no luck. There were actually guards. Actual damned guards escorting me. I mean, there werent any sort of weapons or anything, but a guard always looks like a guard. Big, large, unpleasant. You know the kind of person. Not exactly personable people, but there you go. So, I was happily marched down to that moving platform again. No stopping for anything, not even to gather up the meager amount of stuff that Id accumulated in my little apartment. I actually asked about that I was concerned about the diary but the guard told me that everything within would be recycled, so I would see it again. That, as you might expect, wasnt exactly said in the worlds nicest manner. I didnt have any problem with it, though. If the diary was going to come down to me eventually, Id find it. I didnt feel like the recycling technicians would have anything on me, after all. They mightve done that job for a living, but Id done it for the simple purpose of survival. So I let the guard have his little laugh, and just followed along. Im pretty sure I saw Arnold along the route, but I thankfully got to avoid him. I cant tell you how much it would have sucked to have to deal with him at that moment. So there I was, being marched down to my fate. Life was just great.

2. The ride down seemed a hell of a lot longer than ride up had been. Maybe because the ride up had held such hope. Id really wanted to see what was up top, after all. I had no real interest what was seeing down below. Id heard enough about it. And besides, who really wants to see the worst part of a place after youve been in the best. It just sounded depressing to me, so the platform went down at all due speed. There wasnt really anyone on there with me. Not too weird, I guess, because I assume that most people wouldnt want to be going in the same direction I was. So it was a short, lonely ride down. The light definitely got worse in quality as I went down. So much for equality, right? Like my trip up, I got to observe the quality of construction change. Those nice painted walls started to go away, and I was honestly afraid that I was going to go so far down that Id be living on bare stone. Fortunately, I got to stop at the level of shitty drywall. And that was my introduction to my new home. So, my new world waswell, crowded. When the doors opened, I was introduced to the biggest crowd of people that Id ever seen in my life. I mean, on the scrubwe didnt congregate, for obvious reasons. On the higher levels, I guess there were few enough of the upper class that overcrowding wasnt a problem. But down there? Man, was it ever full. I could barely make out individuals for the size of the crowd. As I stepped out in to the main avenue, I got swept up in it. I just hoped I wasnt going to get crushed in it. Surprisingly, the architecture was a whole lot like it was above ground. Still the rows of dwelling places separated by the occasional businesses, but there was a definite lack of the greenery that was above ground. That might have had something to do with the lighting it wasnt anything like the nice, happy and natural lighting in the upper levels, but more harsh and wellfake. The dwelling fronts werent quite as nice looking, either. They were, for lack of a better term, functional. I guess that could describe the whole place, actually. I guess it made sense, you know. These were the people who did the work, not the people who enjoyed it. Everything was good enough to live in, but nothing more. Nice, right? Totally equal. Eventually, I got the rhythm of the crowd. It wasnt really sweeping, so much as people just knew where to step off. The general utilitarian level of the place was actually pretty helpful to me there were easy to read signs everywhere, with the names of businesses and directions towards important places. It was just a matter of getting in to the right flow of people to get to the right place. With a few tries, I managed to get myself moving correctly, and I actually made it to the recycling center fairly quickly. Say what you will, but the fear of getting crushed to death by people in a hurry is a hell of a motivator. The recycling center was the first thing in the Sanctuary that Id ever seen that looked truly different. Rather than being built in to the walls, it was a free-standing monster that seemed to extend forever up and down. It was a fairly unimaginative rectangular sort of structure, but what really struck me were the massive chutes coming in from all directions. There were about eight actually connecting up to the building itself, but

each one of those had smaller offshoots, moving up or down and away from the main branches. It gave the whole thing the look of some kind of industrial spider. To be honest, it really didnt look like a great place to spend time. But such was my life, and I followed the crowd to get inside. I didnt expect much from the inside, and I wasnt disappointed. The interior was nothing more than grey sheet rock walls, branching left in right in an interminable amount of hallways. I could smell the stench of garbage everywhere I turned, though. This was a place that was pretty blatant about what it was, not at all like the old world buildings Id spent time exploring when I was younger. This place screamed trash goes here pretty loudly. I had my directions from up top, and I followed them to a cramped, over-filled office. Behind the desk, at least, was a familiar face Joe, one of the underdwellers from the quarantine level. He seemed genuinely excited to see me, greeting me with a cry of What the hell are you doing down here, you son of a bitch? He came around the big desk and pulled me in to a painful (to mention nothing of uncomfortable) bear hug and let me explain my story. He seemed genuinely sympathetic to my plight, such as it was, but chalked it all up to the politics of the upper levels. He told me Id get along better down here anyway, with the real folks, and that the job wasnt so bad. Hed show me all the ropes. Do I really need to go in to detail about what my job was? I picked through trash. They had me assigned to metals, figuring I wouldnt know a damn thing about plastics, and they did have me pegged as a good fit. Id done stuff like that since I was a child, after all, and I found a good rhythm. My job was essentially to look through big piles of metal that people had thrown out, and find the stuff that could be used again. While I worked, Joe explained to me more or less what went on there. People from all the levels would load their garbage in to the big shoots Id seen, and wed go through it. When we found something useful, wed throw it in to a different set of shoots, and itd get sent off to a different facility where manufacturers would make use of it. It was a pretty good system, cutting down on waste and keeping valuable resources in the system. Nothing at all would be lost down here it wasnt useful, itd get melted down or chopped up for use in something else. The Sanctums resources were just too finite for anything else. That was the first time Id ever thought of the Sanctum as being particularly fragile. We didnt waste much out on the scrub, but that was out of convenience. If we didnt have what we needed, we could always move on. They didnt have that choice in the Sanctum. If they ran out, I guess they were pretty much out of luck. I guess we were doing pretty good work down there. Necessary work, at the very least. I still wasnt happy about it, but at least I knew I was making a contribution. The next thing I got introduced to down there was the concept of a shift. Id come across the term before, but I never really knew what it meant. Apparently, people in the Sanctum worked a set amount of hours a day. They didnt start when they needed to, or

end when the job was done. Bizarre, right? But at least in the case of the recycling center, it made sense. This wasnt a job that could ever be finished. People would work there around the clock, on an eight hour basis. One had to have some kind of life outside their work, according to Joe. First Id ever really heard of that, but I wasnt going to argue. Joe let me know when my personal bit of drudgery was over, and decided to help me get acclimated to the underside. It was still crowded when we left, but Joe didnt seem to have any problem navigating the crowds. He asked me if I wanted something to eat, and I did, but we didnt make our way to one of the commissaries. Instead, we went to his home. The reason why was pretty apparent once we got there. Joe had a family. Like a literal, honest to god, Ive seen it in advertisements family. A woman Id soon learn was named Jane and was his wife was cooking. His children were helping, for the most part, though there were some young ones that werent do much more than running and throwing things at all. I waswell, confused. It definitely didnt jibe with what Id learned while I was in quarantine. This wasnt supposed to be a part of Sanctum life, right? What about the breeding programs and the child care centers and all of that? Joe laughed at me when I brought it up. That, apparently, wasnt how the world worked down in the underside. While they still donated plenty of genetic material to the banks on the upside, family life was very much alive and well on the downside. Hed been married to Jane for the better part of a decade, and theyd brought up their children on their own. There were traditional schools down on the underside that would teach the children; they werent eligible for care at the upside centers. They were considered every bit a part of the society, but were entirely confined to the downside. They seemed happy, though. Sure, theyd spend their entire lives underground Joe had never actually been topside but they seemed pretty well adjusted. It certainly fit my picture of what I had hoped the Sanctum would be like. Still, I kind of wondered why no one had a problem with it, but Joe told me the people on the topside really didnt care what went on down there. Underdwellers had found ways to take care of their own needs underground; no matter how their numbers grew, they would never be more of a drain on the resources of the Sanctum as a whole. Since they werent causing any problems, no one really interfered. The underside population also outnumbered the topside population by an absurd amountso I guess no one on the topside really wanted to piss them off. As long as they were happy to be where they were, there was no real reason to get them riled up. I enjoyed eating with Joes family. It was nice, being surrounded by all those people who actually cared for each other. We talked, we laughed, and we generally had a good time. The kids asked me all kinds of questions about who I was and what I did, and I tried to answer in the least offensive ways possible. They were all excited by the idea of someone who lived outside, I guess, and Joe and Jane seemed to enjoy my entertaining of their children. After the little ones went to bed, I ended up going over much of the same ground with the adults, though this time in not such a white washed manner. I was as

honest as Id ever been with anyone when talking about my past, about what life was like outside, and about how damn lucky they were to be where they were. That ended up being a lot of my life down on the underside. Working all day, spending time with underdwellers (at first Joe and Jane, and then their friends) at night, learning about their world and telling them about mine. Maybe the Doctor was right about one thing I definitely felt a lot more comfortable down there then I did up top. Up top, I was an oddity. Here, I was still weird, but at least we had work to bond over. I could talk to these people about things from my old life, and theyd have the capacity to understand it. The time I spent with them was good. I wish it could have lasted longer than it did. 3. I got used to life on the underside pretty quickly. It had a routine and a rhythm that I actually found quite enjoyable. Id wake up in my dingy little apartment, get dressed, grab breakfast from a commissary, and get to work. Id spend my day picking through trash, come home and get showered, and spend my night down with Joes friends. There was little variation, but that was okay. Routine was good. Routine was safe. If youve made it this far in my little note, you can pretty much guess that things didnt stay like that for long. It was a pretty damn tumultuous period in my life. It probably wasnt in the cards for me to settle down, find a nice little underdweller wife, raise a family, and die an old man. I think I could have lived with that, though (except, obviously, for the dying part), but I was just going to be out of luck on that account. Life had a funny way of catching back up to me. I was in Joes office, shooting the breeze until shift started, when the note came. It was hand-delivered by someone who looked way too tan and healthy to have come from the underside, and it was actually in an envelope. It was addressed me, at work. There were instructions for me to open the damn thing immediately, and I did. Inside waswell, again, not much. It was a lot like the letter Id gotten informing me of my move to the underside. Just an order to present myself to the highest level of the Sanctum as soon as possible, and that more would be explained there. I was confused. There wasnt anything on it about a transfer or a move. Nothing indicated I was needed for anything permanent. Andwellunderdwellers really didnt travel up that high. Ever, really. I knew I had some scheduled time up top coming at some point, but I wasnt even really that anxious to use it. But now I was supposed to go all the way up, to level one. That was actually above ground. It waswell, unprecedented. But who was I to argue? I was prepared to leave immediately, but the messenger told me I might want to make myself presentable first. Apparently, underdweller work clothes werent fit for the topside. After informing him I didnt have anything else, he decided to let my offensive looking self go back up top. And so, I made my way back up to the top, this time as a visitor. I apologize if I felt smug about ithell, no I dont. I felt smug. Obviously, they needed something from me,

who theyd thrown down in the bottom of their damn little pit. I had silly little visions of them begging me forsomething. Okay, I had no particular idea as to what. But they had to need something, right? That was the only reason I could think of, because it clearly wasnt because of how much they loved me. I was still very much in awe when I stepped out on the surface. After a few months on the underside, I just wasnt used to the light. It almost hurt, but I did my best to bear it. It was no less beautiful to me this time, though. But I had a mission, and couldnt really enjoy it quite as much. I made my way to one of the very few buildings that marred the otherwise eden-like landscape in front of me. It, at least, looked nice. It was all marble and columns someone had obviously sunk a lot of resources in to this , because there was absolutely nothing like it in the entire Sanctum. It was a touch of old world opulence in an otherwise functional society. I wish that I had something nasty to say about that, but I didnt. I just thought it was very pretty. Dont judge me too harshly on that it was a new experience, after all, and Im an absolute sucker for the new experiences. Hell, it also made it easier for me not to get lost, so I guess it was at least a little bit functional. It looked like the kind of place that a governing body should sit. It was austere, beautiful, kind of menacing, too, in certain ways. It made me feel woefully inadequate (but then again, what didnt in the Sanctum?), which might have been the point of me showing up in there to begin with. They could have met with me anywhere. Hell, they could have come down to the underside to see me (not that it would have happened) or sent me a far more detailed note. But they didnt. They wanted me there, where they were most comfortable, to see their power and their glory. Bastards, right? Or at least, they knew how to exert their power. No fault there, I guess. I might have done the same thing. Oh, hell, I would have had a great big palace where I made everyone come and bow before me, with rows and rows of big shiny guards and impressive looking I got sidetracked there, sorry. I should edit it out, probably, but its the truth. I couldnt blame them for wanting to impress me, because I would have done the same damn thing a long time ago. It was just how power works. When you have power, you want to use it, to show it off, and most of all let everyone know you have it. Thats what kind of cinched it for me that they wanted a favor. See, the best time to show off everything you have is when you want a favor from someone else. Youve got to make them feel less important, or theyll know how to work you over. Of course, I already knew that. Hell, I knew that and it still was working on me a little, which says a whole lot about the tactic. When I finally got to the building, I was ushered inside by a pair of very smartly dressed (to say nothing of imposing) guards. They were actually wearing uniforms, very much in the vein of the old-style military costumes. They also had firearms. Yes, someone was wasting actual guns on making sure I wasnt going to do anything stupid. I felt kind of flattered at that. I think either one of them could have dismantled me without breaking a sweat. But such are the politics of power, I guess.

The inside of the place was way more imposing that the outside. Beautiful, natural wood floors and paintings on every wall. Every one of them a class, a real life masterpiece by a real master. Hell, I even knew what the hell they were, which was saying something. These were the things that they chose to save from the old world, and they chose to keep them here. I was setting in what was probably the greatest remaining concentration of wealth on the whole planet. Nice. Eventually, I made my way to where Id been directed. Another room paneled in wood, but it somehow looked even more rich. There was a large desk, perched on a dais that took up more than half the room. It had to be at least three or four feet off the ground, putting the men and women seated behind it far above me. I had to crane my neck to actually look at them. Looking big is an animal trick, one that were pretty damn susceptible to, and it definitely cowed me a little. I was planning on talking big, making them regret where theyd sent me, but suddenly my mouth felt dry. I really didnt want to talk back at that point. I just wanted to get out of the damn place alive. This was, I was told, the Council of Elders. Every person in this room had been vetted by their peers as the most qualified to lead the society held within the Sanctum. Even being in here was an honor that most people would never experience. Merely meeting with me was a waste of time that they could spend trying to make the lives of their charges better. So what else could I say? Even though they called me there away from my life, I thanked them. I actually thanked them for taking the time to see me. Well, from there we quite quickly got down to business. They confirmed that I was, in fact, the man theyd brought form the scrub earlier that year. They confirmed that I had taken part in their hospitality, adapted myself to their world. They confirmed that theyd given me food, shelter, and a livelihood. All this, I freely acknowledged. And thenwell, then they told me, in fancier words, that I owed them one. That since they had been so kind to me, I needed to do something in return. How could I argue that? Theyd more or less saved my life. But what could I offer them? Well, that became quickly apparent. They told me about their broken tunnel, about the necessity to share information with the other Sanctums. They told me theyd have to send a party overland, to let the others know of the situation and why communication had ceased. And to do so, theyd need someone familiar with the territory. Theyd planned on trying to send an expedition, but since they had a nativewell, why not have a guide. Thats rightthey wanted to send me out on the scrub again. I didnt want that, not at all. I tried to argue against it. I told them of the dangers, but they reminded me of my stories of how I had defeated those dangers. I told them that I wasnt as qualified to do it as some of their so-called survival experts, a claim they pretty roundly dismissed. I tried every argument I could think of, but they were ready for me. I guess they didnt buy my earlier bullshit quite as well as I thought.

The kicker, though, was that they told me that this was my purpose in the Sanctum. If I wasnt willing to do my part to help out, wellthen there was no place for me here. I could leave with them, or I could leave alone. I had no choice in the matter. With a statement like that, how do you argue? I agreed to go, but I made it clear that wed need quite a few supplies. And Id need good people. Andwell, I just kind of padded as much as I could. If I was going to go back, I wanted to go back in style. And, you know, not die. I especially didnt want to die out there, so I wanted protection. Call my cynical (yet again), but I also wanted to make sure that Id have enough to tide me over when and if they decided to leave me out there. I wanted things to use to survive. I wanted things to barter with. Hell, I just wanted things. All my hoarding instincts, apparently, went back in to full gear as soon as I felt danger. Hopefully, I could find a way that I wouldnt need it, but better safe than sorry. Well, after this conversation, they graciously let me spend the rest of the day out on the topside. To be honest, I didnt really want to, but I did it anyway. I forced myself to stay out there until the sun went down. I took in the sunset, I enjoyed the sights of nature, but most of all I made sure that I could watch the stars come out. It may have been the last time that I could watch the stars in peace.

Scrub

1. You know, when those people in the Sanctums get ready to do something, it really seems that they do it quickly. Im sure theyd been planning it for months, but it was less than a week from the time that they told me I was going until it was time for us to leave. I had just enough time to get my affairs, what little of them that they were, in order in the underside. They most consisted of telling Joes family goodbye. I dont think the kids really got what was going on (hell, Im not sure Joe did, either), but Jane was at least quick enough to understand that I probably wouldnt be coming back. She just told me to stay safe. Probably the first time someone has actually cared enough to tell me that. I wish more than anything that I wouldve had more time with them. They were good people. My work schedule was pretty much wiped clean with the announcement. I spent my time trying to outfit myself, and by proxy my travelling companions, with what wed need. At first, I wanted to travel light the biggest detriment on the scrub can often being carrying too much weight but I was quickly informed wed have transportation. What that meant I didnt really know, but it meant that we wouldnt have to worry about how much weight wed have to carry. SoI went a little crazy with preparations. Some of it was a given. I made sure we had plenty of food and water, for example. You can never have too much of that on a long trip, after all. Then, I made sure we had tools for everything I could think of tools for climbing, cooking, camping, hunting, you name it. Most of that was for my benefit. I had been told the trip would take a few weeks at the very most. I fully planned to snag as much of that gear as I could if things went wrong. Oh, and I made sure we had weapons. God, did I make sure of that. Like I said before, I wasnt really a fighter. Not at all, really, but I liked having protection. I took a well-made, brand new survival knife as my own, but I made sure we had guns. I even learned how to shoot one I wasnt, you know, actually good at it, but the mere presence of one of the things out on the scrub is usually enough to scare most people off. With that, I figured wed be mostly safe. Well, I would, at least. I had pretty much decided to write off anyone who came with me. As soon as preparations were done, they were ready for me to be out the door. Or, should I say more accurately, The Door. There was, to my eternal amusement, actually a giant front door on the Sanctum. Apparently, someone had thought that the thing should be opened up as soon as the world would be safe, so that the goodness and greatness that was the Sanctum program could spill back into the world as quickly as possible. The actual thing was a monster, though. Reinforced metal on huge gearslooked pretty cool, actually. It took a long time to open, rusted shut as it was, but when it didwow. Pure, natural sunlight poured through. And that dry, arid scrub air that Id known for so long. I never noticed how dead it seemed out there. But when the doors opened, it made it all very real for me. After the doors opened, I got introduced to my team. My damn team was all of ten people three of them guards, a few technicians, andwellI stopped there, not caring, because something I really did care about was there. There was Annabelle, all outfitted for

a trip across the scrub. Annabelle, who I hadnt seen in months, but all the feelings came rushing back to me pretty quickly. And she seemed to reciprocate. Do you really need me to go in to all the gooey details? Lets suffice to say we were happy to see each other and expressed that, and leave it there. After greeting Annabelle, I also found that I had another travelling companion. And not nearly as pleasant a companion this time, either. Thats rightI was travelling with Arnold. Arnold, whod never given up talking about me while I was gone, apparently. Who had told Annabelle about the trip across the scrub Id be leading, and convinced her that they should both go. Officially, Annabelle was going along as a medic and Arnold was a technician, but Arnold let me know that they were mostly going along so that Id feel the need to protect my charges. Well, they got that right with one them, at least. Selfish as I usually was, I dont think I could have lived with myself if I had to run off and leave Annabelle there alone in the scrub. That complicated things quite a bit. Now Id have to figure out how to lead our group across terrain I was familiar with enough, but to a location Id never been. For all I knew, we didnt have enough. I was freaking out a bit now that I actually had to take it seriously. I couldnt imagine making any sort of weeks long trip of foot, whichactually didnt turn out to be a problem. We had transportation. What a beauty that thing was. It was essentially an old-style tractor-trailer, modified to run on treads instead of wheels. Our trip, apparently, would be in style or at least, theirs would. I would be riding up in the cab with a driver, while they whiled away their time in the luxuriously appointed trailer portion. But hell, it was better than walking. It couldnt go that fast, but it was better than trying to cover all that distance on foot. All I had to do was keep the driver apprised of danger, and wed be home free. How much do you want to be it actually turned out like that?

2. To be fair, the trip actually got off to an easy start. I was reasonably familiar with the surrounding area, and I knew the pitfalls. I did my best to ignore the rings. I guess I was a little afraid that I might see the remains of my earlier companions. I didnt, thank goodness, but I did see the Shambler. Or, you know, at least a Shambler. I bring that up, because it gave me a hell of a lot of satisfaction to watch it get run over by our transport. It didnt even give us a pause. Yep, the creature that had changed my life, or one very much like it, got reduced to a bump in the road. God, I love technology. The first day or two was just about completely confined to areas I knew. I kept us away from broken roads, steep drops, and the odd bit of deep water. I also tried to keep us away from most of the areas where I knew scrubbers lived. Not because I wanted to avoid them, really, or anything as stupid as shame, but because I didnt want to interrupt their lives. It could startle them when they didnt need to be startled. We could scare off food, or cause debris to shift, or any number of things that would hurt a scrubber. Id spent long enough trying to avoid that fate that I didnt want anyone else to have to experience. Also, I was afraid theyd do something stupid and break our truck. I liked riding in style, and I didnt want some idiot scrubber figuring out some way to stop us just so they could scavenge our treads or something. It might sound stupid, but the scrub was a desperate place. I probably would have done it, a lifetime ago. Sometimes, you just have to take a chance. Wed drive for hours, and then stop to rest when the driver got tired. He was apparently one of the very few people in the Sanctum actually rated to drive the transport, and there wasnt another one of them with us. So when he was ready to stop, we stopped. The trailer made for some mighty fine housing, to be honest. It was communal, but it was comfortable. I spent my time, asleep and awake, with Annabelle. Well, and Arnold, too, but that was entirely involuntary. There wasnt a lot of talking amongst the others. For Annabelle and Arnold it may have been voluntary, but for these others it was very close to a death sentence. I have no idea who they pissed off to have to come with me, but they certainly werent having any fun doing it. I eventually got the idea that, somehow, they blamed me. I didnt really feel like reminding them that they wouldve been out there even if I wasnt around, because there was no point. They needed a scapegoat, and I didnt care enough to be offended. Like I said, most of my time not navigating was spent with Annabelle. Once again, I found her to be great company. Out of the Sanctum, she waswell, I guess as much in awe of the world as I had been when I first met her. Shed spend hour just gazing out the windows, watching the terrain. It was new and different for her, really. Even as someone who spent a great deal of time topside, shed never seen much of the world. Her horizons, I guess, were being expanded.

We talked a lot, mostly about what we were going to do when we got done with the trip. She said shed vouch for me when we got back, get me pulled back up topside. And if that didnt work, she said, shed come back to the underside with me. That surprised me, I guess, that she was willing to give up so much for me, but it made me feel good. I told her about the life on the underside, about the families I met and the lack of regulations aboutwell, anything. It might not have been a glamorous life, but it would have been nice. I got visions of a life working in the recycling center, coming home to see Annabelle and my kids, having the kind of life that Joe and Jane had. It was a great thought. Of course, there was also Arnold. Arnold, who wanted to know everything about everything we were going by. Hed ride up in the cab with me, asking about all of the landmarks. He was quizzing me honestly quizzing me and then hed give me his opinions. Very ill-formed opinions, but they were amusing. He had all kinds of thoughts, gleaned from bad books, about everything on the scrub. It wouldve been insulting if I wasnt so used to it already. I think he was building some kind of philosophy about life outside the Sanctum that made it much more romantic than it actually was. Somehow, he thought hed be free of all the persecution he thought he felt in the Sanctum. I tried to tell him that itd be worse on the scrub, but he really wasnt all that interested in listening to me. And so, we travelled on. Like I said, it was pretty damn easy when we were going through the area I knew, but we got past that pretty quickly. For a little while, I was able to fake it. I mean, the terrain was more or less the same for a little while, but even that would wear then soon. The driver got pretty annoyed with me, but I warned him about it early on. I ended up mostly riding in silence, occasionally pointing out signs of scrub life. I tried to steer us away from things that seemed more or less dangerous. Some of that was actually kind of easy, and I suppose it was the reason I had gone along in the first place. I knew the signs of things that werent quite right out on the scrub. Like the obvious ambush someone had set up along the road, for example. I think they would have missed it without me, but it was pretty damn apparent to me. I have no idea if it would have done anything to stop the truck, but you never know, right? We were able to around that, and a few more of the nastier roadside attractions. There were plenty of raiders that wouldnt have minded getting their hands on the truck, to say nothing of everything the truck represented. I doubt it was necessarily meant for us there were plenty of other things out there for bandits to go after, and the ambush points were probably set up all the time. I know Id run in to them often enough in my former life; I had a few nasty reminders of them, and they were most of the reason that Id taken to carrying my knife. Altogether, it was better for us to avoid them if we could help it, even though we were better armed than anyone likely to come after us. Old habits die hard, I guess. Just because I could recognize the signs of an ambush didnt mean we were necessarily going to have a safe trip. Obvious things like that were, for the most part, not really going to be a problem. What ended up being worse were the unexpected little things. Thank god for the treads, because the general state of the roads probably would have stopped us fairly early on. If they werent cracked or full of potholes, they were literally wasted away. We almost lost the entire truck to a sinkhole at one point only very

fancy driving was able to get us out of that one. And as the terrain became less and less familiar, I became more and more useless. I kept up front, doing what I could, but I wanted to at least try and earn my keep. Further out, things really started to change we even drove straight through an ambush point, and only the general speed of the truck kept us out of harms way. I had really done the scrub a disservice by characterizing it as one massive place. Apparently, there were pretty different methods being used across the land. Something I really should have thought of at first, I guess. Wasnt I supposed to be one the smart guys out on the scrub? All that it really meant, I guess, was that I was totally useless out there. So, what else could I do? I kept lying. Acting like I knew what might be coming up, like I had some damn clue about the landscape or the people in it. Whenever something I didnt know about popped up, I tried to pass it off like it was an aberration. It wasnt like anyone could argue with me, because they were even less familiar with the area than I was. Of course, only two people had any clue about what was going on. One of them was the driver, and he was blessedly silent. If he held anything against me, he didnt say it. The other person was Annabelle. I told her the truth, and she waswell, I mean she was pissed. She had a right to be, but she was still supportive. That was nice, I guess. She listened to my problems, and actually gave me pointers on how to keep the deception going. I didnt expect it out of her, really, but I guess she was full of surprises. I guess more importantly, she helped me gather me thoughts, work on recognizing what was out there. She was right on some levels, I think I probably did know more than I thought, and my educated guesses would probably be better than nothing at all. At the very least, they might have helped us avoid certain disaster. And you know what? She was right. I put my mind to it, and I was able to steer us away from danger a few times. Not always, but there were certain universal signs that I could look out for. I actually started feel good about it. I can proudly say that when it all went wrong, it wasnt actually my fault. It was, as far as I was concerned, nature itself deciding we didnt need to have an easy trip.

3. I like to think that the road just got tired of us, so it decided to go away. Seriously, thats how it felt at the time. One moment, we were trundling along nicely, and the nextfree fall. I didnt realize we were on a bridge I dont think any of us did. There had been so much infill over the decades that what was once an overpass certainly looked like it was just part of the landscape at first. At least, it did until it fell out from under us. Have you ever been in free fall before? Scary as hell, but its even worse than when youre confined. I hit my head it was pretty near the initial point of falling, and that was probably good, but it means I dont know exactly what happened in the fall. All I knew when I came around was that I wasnt the only one who was hurt; the driver, a decent guy whose name I never actually learned, had apparently hit his head a little harder than I had, because his neck was at a nasty angle. Id seen that enough to know he was dead. Call me cold, but I was a little more worried about the back of the truck. Mostly about Annabelle, which I hope can be forgiven, but also about all the supplies back there. They were my survival ticket. Our survival ticket, I guess I should amend. By that point, I was very much thinking of my life in terms of myself an Annabelle being together. I guess thats some kind of personal growth, at least. I was in pain, but really no worse than Id been before in my life. Running on adrenaline, I made my way out of the cab. Surveying the wreckage, it wasnasty. Wed dropped a good little distance, not too far to climb out, but still enough to leave our transportation in wreckage. We wouldnt be going anywhere in it again, even if one of us could figure out how to drive the damn thing. So, I made my way to the back. Thats where everything important to me was. Miraculously, the back was pretty much unharmed, as were the people and things within it. They were a little banged up, I suppose, but otherwise none the worse for wear. One of the techs, Riley, was pretty vocal when I came in. He was screaming at me, wanting to know what the hell I had done. Ididnt respond. I wish I had something witty or badass to add, but I was worried about Annabelle. She was fine, just like everyone else, but I had to see it for myself. She was a trooper, though. Even before I got back there, she had already gotten up and about, and was doing her actual job. She was seeing to everyone in the trailer, making sure their bumps and scrapes were nothing more than that. And she was securing our gear as she went along. What a woman, right? To skip over the less interesting parts, Ill just let it be said that we eventually got ourselves, and most of our gear, out of the hole. It took a lot longer than I particularly want to remember, but we actually got it out. Ill give credit where credit was due those guards certainly managed to be a good bit of help. Plenty of dirty looks to me (why me?) from guys with guns, sure, but they still did a hell of a job in getting the stuff up top. The techs were pretty useless, especially Riley. His job, apparently, was just being a bastard in general. His specialty seemed to be yelling at me. At first, I really didnt mind. Until he decided that he needed to drop in a few things that I apparently wasnt supposed to know.

I like to think that I was pretty thick skinned. I could handle being called stupid and incompetent. Hell, to be honest, I felt that way myself for vast portions of the trip. But then Riley decided to start yelling a few more choice things. Like calling me a useless savage. Alright, not too bad. Or telling me that Id managed to screw up the only useful thing I could provide to the Sanctum. Oh, and then there was the bit where he began screaming about how happy he was that when we finally got to our destination, he was supposed to cut me loose. How I was supposed to be released back in the wild, just like the dumb animal I was. Nice guy, huh? I tried to ask the others in the group about it, but no one felt like meeting my gaze. Not even Annabelle. Arnold, for whatever reason, was the first to speak up. He was kind of surprised I didnt know this was the plan. What use would they have for me, after all, when I got them to the other Sanctum. Arnold thought it was perfectly logical, the little worm. Annabelle, for her part, at least attempted to be diplomatic about it. She told me that she didnt think it was right, but thats why she wanted to come with me. To help try to convince them to let me in or at the very least, so she could stay with me. I didnt really want to hear it. I didnt really want to hear anything. I just wanted to get my ass moving, specifically with my stuff. I wanted to get gone. I wanted to get as far away from that place and from those people as I could. So, I gathered up what I could on my own. No one really tried to stop me I guess they agreed with Riley. Either that, or they noticed what I didnt notice. The big damn group waiting out at the end of the road. With the big, big sticks. Probably would have noticed myself, had I not been so angry. So, when they hit me on the back of the head, I really should have had something better to say that damn.

The Swarm

1. The next thing I remembered was the cold. I think my time in the Sanctum must have made me soft, because my teeth were chattering from what was an otherwise average winters night. It was bad enough to wake me out ofwell, unconsciousness. To be honest, the only thing that made me sure that I had actually woken up was the cold. If it wasnt for that, the only other explanation would have been that I was having a dream. Well, a really weird dream. Or a nightmare. When I woke up, I was tied to a post, but not terribly well. Whoever had done it had left my hands free and my eyes open, but I dont think I was going to be going anywhere any time soon. All around me was chaospure and simple. I think it was accurate to call it a village, but only just barely. I was by some kind of communal fire pit that was obvious from the ash and the bones, but beyond that? It was, as the old saying went, a clusterfuck. Ive seen sub-standard housing. Hell, I made a living in sub-standard housing. But this was barely even that. There were skins (I still dont want to know what kind of skins) haphazardly strung over posts. I assume theyd give some kind of protection from rain, but just barely. Other than thatnot a thing. Nothing that Id recognize from the few camps Ive been in no obvious place for storage, no little tents set aside for healing, not even the usual worn path that most groups had leading to a place to let nature run its course. The reason for latter, at least, was apparent from the smell in the air. Id become familiar enough with raising livestock in the Sanctum to recognize what it looked like when animals left their dropping all over an area, and thiswasnt that. It became abundantly clear when I saw a small child peeing on the side of one of the lean-tos, to what mightve been a parents obvious lack of interest. I actually thought it was a little funny. But as I came around, I definitely started to see a lot more life moving around, andwell, it didnt seem human. Some of it, I could deal with. There was definitely a couple having sex not more than ten feet away from me. Kind of outside my usual ideas of privacy, but not inhuman in and of itself. There was a fight going on not too far from them, though. There were people tearing through some kind of chunk of meat, greedily stuffing their faces while a few smaller people circled around them, looking for scraps. It was more like being surrounded by big, furless dogs than anything else. And they really didnt seem to notice me. If there hadnt been so many of them, I probably would have run. I like to think that, anyway, but I guess it wasnt exactly true. For everything that I could see, the rest of my group wasnt anywhere near my line of sight. Thatworried me. Im not exactly the worrying sort of guy, as you mightve guessed so far. And given all the recent events, I guess I couldnt have been faulted from wanting get as far away from them as possible (especially ArnieI mean, honestly, I think I could have been forgiven from wanting to get away from Arnie in any given situation, right?), but I was honestly worried about all of them. Despite all the back-stabbing, the sniping, the betrayal, the general degree of poor treatment, I was actually getting dangerously close tocaring about all of

them. How stupid is that? Im pretty sure some of the old-time head doctors mightve had a field day with that. Call me a sucker for punishment, but there we go. So, despite the fact that I probably couldve made a good go for running, I sat tied to a stake in a fruitless endeavor to try to see what had become of my travelling companions. God, it was boring. All that time in the Sanctum must have spoiled me, because I dont think the thought would have crossed my mind a few months before that. I think I might have been curious. Or angry. Or, you know, more likely scared shitless, but bored would not have crossed my mind. But I think Id gotten my fill of strange new worlds and exciting new ways for people to be treated like crap. Id survived a run-in with the scariest creature I could imagine. This whole situation kind of had me non-plussed. Oooh, big scary tribal folks, right? Hell, as far as the Sanctum dwellers were concerned, I was a big scary tribal person (minus, you know, the big and scary part). These folks just seemed kind of aimlessly hostile towards each other, in that wonderful way that only humans can be. Since they were ignoring me, I supposed I wasnt in any sort of danger. After a few more hours of looking aimlessly for my friends (well, companions. Companions and Arnold), I finally had the bright idea of making a noise. It was a yawn, to tell the truth, but damn did that get the attention of all the people around me. It was one of the creepiest things Ive seen in my life, Shamblers very much included. As soon as I made a noise, all of their heads turned at once. I dont mean I got everyones attention I mean they literally all turned at one time. A few dozen pairs of eyes all staring at me in concert. If Id thought they were acting in a sub-human manner before, I was definitely corrected by the way they reacted to me. They werent acting like humans at all. For just a second, making a group of people sit up and stare like that made me laugh. It was involuntary, I swear it just reminded me of the prairie dogs that Id seen at the zoo in the Sanctum. So nice and unified, you know? It had to have been nerves, I guess, but I definitely found it hilarious for a moment. Definitely less so hilarious when they started moving towards me as a unit. That, as you might expect, shut me right the hell up. God, I wish I could think of a way to explain this right. I dont know if words could really do them justice, unless youve actually seen them moving. It was like...hell, I dont know. Im looking for something in the animal kingdom that can describe it, but its hard. It wasnt like a herd of cattle, or even a pack of wolves. That implies coordination, sure, but theres still a certain level of individualism that just wasnt there. It was just like they were parts of one body, spread across the camp but moving as one. All the individualism theyd displayed beforeit just vanished. They were likeinsects, I guess. That was something Id been familiar with even before the Sanctum. They made up the most prevalent life out there, and I dont think theres a scrubber in the world who hasnt spent some time watching them.

Have you ever watched ants? Sometimes, yeah, they all wander about and do their own thing. But when they get threatened, or when they have something to dobam, its just one bigswarm. I cant adequately describe the sheer level of terror I felt when that particular image finally went in to my head. Imaginewell, imagine your worst nightmare. Now imagine that your nightmare is still there when you wake up. When you talk to people about it, theyre just as afraid of it as you. Hell, everyones afraid of it, because its real. Everyones always been afraid of it. Everyone always will be. cause, you knowits going to kill you, sooner or later. If thered been anything in my stomach, I can tell you honestly that I wouldve crapped my pants at the realization. Or at least thrown up. I definitely sat there retching for a good minute while I watched the swarm close in on me. Ugham I painting enough of a picture with this? Not a pleasant moment in my life, but enough of that. Lets just all ascribe to the idea that it sucked, and get back to the narrative. As they closed in on me, I finally began to understand that they werent yet tearing me limb from limb. That was kind of unusual, from everything Ive heard. Remember, the nameless, faceless swarms pretty much just came through a town, sowing destruction and moving on. Cautiously investigating a kid tied to a stake wasnt really part of their gig, from what Id heard. Come to think of it, neither was tying a kid to a stake. Of course, part of me began to go to a less than satisfactory place as it was. My travelling companions were nowhere to be found. In my mind, theyd obviously already been raped, killed, and eaten (though not necessarily in that order), and I was going to be the desert. Just the thought made me angry. Not so much because they, as people, were probably dead, but because the bastard swarm had taken them away from me. Suddenly, years of pent-up anger rushed in to me. The damn swarms had taken away so much already. They robbed me of the chance to live in a decent world. If it wasnt for the swarm, I would never have had to live in a world where scavenging was my only hope of survival. Id never have had to prove my worth to tribes full of idiots just so I could get something to eat. Id never had found myself wandering through the remains of a dead world. Id never have my friends leave me while we ran for our lives from some kind of bad movie monster. Id never have had to live in some damn bubble, picking through garbage while the rest of the population enjoyed relative luxury. Id never have had to spend weeks on the road carting a bunch of idiots through the wasteland. But they were my idiots, you know? And the swarm took them from me. I hadnt ever had many possessions. Id had my knife, and my packand that was really just about it. I mean, come on...I was a scrubber. We didnt have much by nature. Nothing that could weigh you down nothing extra, nothing that could cost you any chance at survival. That had always included people for me. Say what you will about the bastards from the Sanctum, but they were the first people to let me form a danger-free connection, and I was going to be damned if I was going to let anyone take that away from me.

I started yelling and screaming, throwing out every obscenity I could think of (and a few that I made up, if were going to stick to the truth). I spit, I gnashed my teeth, Ilooked like an idiot, because they all stopped a good five feet away from me. They were curious, but they werent coming any closer. I dont think they were exactly put off by my little show of force there wasnt a look of concern on any of their faces. They just watched me dispassionately until my rage subsided. Im proud to say that took a little bit; anger feels good when youve got it, and I let myself feed on that for a good little while. But as with all things, it eventually faded. Which left me still tied to a post, in the middle of the swarm, but now happily covered with my own spittle. Great, yeah? There were so many of them, it was hard to really get a feel for their numbers. But as they continued to surround me, I began to notice that, for a swarmwell, they werent really so uniform. There was a hell of a lot of facial scarring going on amongst them. Not really so unusual out on the scrub, with life being what it is, but this looked deliberate. The scars were all in patterns, all different from one another, but all on the foreheads of the different members of the swarms. As they sat there watching me, it was almost like a game to try to make sense of what they were. Kind of like watching clouds, you know? Kind of stupid, I guess, but I was trying to find somewhere more useful to shunt my rage. Anger usually tends to lead to doing something kind of stupid, and this really seemed like a situation where stupid would turn to dead pretty quick. So, I tried to calm myself down as best I could. I figured that they couldnt understand me, so it wasnt like they could have been offended by what I had been sayingor at least, that was the idea. I was probably as safe as Id been before I had started my little rant. I tried to convince myself of that, and it worked pretty wellat least until the crowd parted and the single most wizened creature I had ever seen emerged. I had no idea whether it was male or female it was so stooped and wrinkled that any kind of gender characteristics were long since gone. It bore the same kind of decorative scars that the rest of the swarm had, but magnified to an insane degree. I dont think there was an area of its face that wasnt marked in some manner. It moved slowly, obviously taking great effort to take every step. It never stopped looking at me, though. I do mean never at one point, it stumbled, falling to the ground, but its eyes never left mine. The rest of the group picked it up, gingerly, almost reverently, and it continued its slow trek to my location. Step by step, it made its way forward, and I suddenly felt a twinge of dread. The creature made its way to me, but it made no move. I was expectinghell, I dont know what I was expectingbut certainly not for it to just sit and stare. If it had been some kind of awful trash novel, there wouldve been some kind of cackling laughter or villainous monologue. If it had been more like the life I had been used to, the thing would have just killed me right there. But as it was, it justlooked at me. On the scrub, and in the Sanctum for that matter, its not considered polite to just look someone in the eye. Its uncomfortable as hell. Most people avoid doing it for too long in most situations, and for good reason. Just staring at a stranger is both threatening and intimate as hell. But thispersonhad no such compunction. It just looked me in the eyes for what seemed like an eternity. I felt stripped, naked, exposed. I dont even know why it was perfectly clear

it wasnt actually seeing me. Its eyes were milky white, caked with the tell-tale signs of cataracts. And yet, it still felt like the creature was boring directly in to my soul. That never got less uncomfortable, but thankfully it stopped soon. For a moment, the creature looked away from me, looking back at the crowd behind it. It muttered something its voice was so hoarse and muddled I never could understand it but it seemed to agitate the rest of the swarm. Their voices rose in kind of a rough grunt, but more of that unintelligible speech from the creature silenced them. One by one, they went down on a knee, bowing their heads in reverence. Something was certainly about to happen, and I didnt really feel great about that. Whatever it was, I had a feeling it wasnt going to be anything great for me. I was surprised when the creature gently reached around me, undoing my bonds. For a moment, I was sure it was going to set me free. That lasted for all of a few seconds, until I figured that it might have just wanted me moved somewhere before it did whatever terrible things it had in store for me. It motioned to the crowd, and motioned to me. I had no idea what it was trying to say, but a gentle pressure on my shoulder made it clear it wanted me to follow suit and kneel. I wasnt about to argue, not in my position. So I did. The creature looked at me with a mixture of sadness and mirth, and placed a hand on my forehead. It gave a few more grunts, and raised its hands to the sky. For all I knew, it was dedicating my death to some weird ass Swarmer sky god, but I kept still. I wish there was some awesome tactical reason for that, but to be honest I was just scared shitless at that point. You try being in that situation, and see how well you do. Then, the creature knelt, slowly and painfully, and came down to my level. Whatever was going to happen, I knew it would happen then. I tried to make peace with myself, with mywell, whatever it was that I believed in, I wasnt entirely sure. Whatever was coming next, I did my best to be prepared. Whatever it was, I would be ready. And then she spit in my eye. I was surprised, flabbergastedand I had just about enough time to spit out a profanity before my vision clouded and my world turned inside out.

2. Everything in the world had changed. I wasnt on the scrub anymore. I wasnt anywhere familiar, but that was okay. That was to be expected, because that had been my entire life. All I had was movement, moving along. There was no thought, no imagination, nothing but movement. I didnt like it, I didnt dislike itthere was nothing. I was, somehow, strangely satisfied by it. It was all I had ever known, and I was good at it. Who could ever ask for more? I was designed for it. I know I was designed. I dont know who or what did it, but I know I was made. That was deeply ingrained in my core. I didnt remember who did it. I didnt remember much, really, but my sense of purpose. I just knew about moving. I remember one day, things changed for me. I was moving, like I always was, through the great wide world. Usually, I just rode on the wind. Sometimes, I would just float for days until I encountered a place to stop. When I did, I would feelanxiety, I guess. I would feel the need to move again. I knew I was waiting for something. It would take timethat was something I didnt really know yet...but it would take time for me to find what I was looking for. The place I was, it was very empty. There was water I knew water and there was dirt. What I was looking for was what it didnt have, until it did. When it came, I knew it instantly. It was huge compared to me, a pink giant in a barren landscape, and I knew that was where I need to move to. There was no question of what to do I moved. My target didnt notice me moving, and by the time he did, it was too late. I was in him, permeating through the holes in his skin. And when I did thatwow, did my world ever change. A world of sensation. Most of my life, such as it was, had been mostly defined by movement. What I was able to see, if that word was right, was just movement. What I felt was movement. What I waswell, was movement. But when I was in him, I could see, I could I could hear, I could smell, I could feel. There was so much! Thank goodness my body knew how to work itself, or I would have been lost forever. But the body knew how to work itself, and so did we. Oh, I was a we now, and it was wonderful! There were thoughts in my mind. I had never had thoughts before. They were nice. There was an overriding sense of gnawing in us, though. Before we were one, I know I had been missing something. It had been important. I wantedwhat was it? It was food. I wanted to eat. Id never eaten before, and that made me very excited to try. Oh, we spent time together, trying to indulge in our newness. I knew we were one, but my other half didnt. From what I could tell, he just felt his feelings amplified. I had no problem with that, though. I didnt know how feelings worked yet. I didnt know about moderation. I just wanted us to enjoy what we wanted to enjoy. And for that time, it was food. So we looked for it everywhere. We had so much of it, so much that it hurt, but that was okay. We enjoyed it. We started to get sick, though. Something about me was wrong for us, and I couldnt change fast enough. Our outsides started feeling bad, looking bad. People started to comment, and it hurt us. So we tried to stay away from people. We went back out where

we first became one, trying to enjoy our food a bit more. We made a mistake. We got overindulgent, and our body forgot it was in charge. I was leftwe were in water, too much water, too deep. We couldnt breathe. We stayed under for far too longI could feel part of myself slipping away. I could feel us dying, and it hurt. So I sent out part of myself in to the water. My first self died with that body, but that wasnt the end. I was more than just one I was many. I sent myself out in the water, let myself drift. I was so afraid of dying again that I split, I split and split and split. And I changed. I changed myself so the next time I became whole, I would not make the same mistakes. Being in the body had changed me. I was afraid to become whole again. I drifted for so long, but eventually my hosts found me. They ingested me, which was kind ofunpleasant. But I bonded with them. This time, I kept quiet. I experienced these new lives, but I didnt try to become one again. I kept quiet. I talked to myself, of course, across all of these bodies, but I didnt let myself get so close as I did with my first self. These bodies didnt get sick like my first self. They didnt overindulge as much, either. Yes, I amplified their feelings. There was hunger, there was want, there was anger, and by the process of being me, I made them stronger. But the world went on. I had changed myself. I didnt have to move anymore. I stayed in my bodies, living in them forever. I made my way into their very essence and changed them, so that part of myself would go along when they bred. I found myself in more and more bodies, all across the world. I felt good just enjoying the feeling. I was sure there was some purpose for what I was, but I didnt really care. I just wanted to experience. Soon, there were so many of me, but I was feeling weak. I wasnt an equal partner with my bodies. Their emotions controlled me. I felt them growing stronger and stronger. The bodies with the strongest emotions would control the others, in ways similar to the way I had that first time. The feelings leapt across the world through me. I watched it happen, felt it, and I didnt mind. They did so many things, so many new experiences. I knew there was pain. I could see it, feel it. But we withdrew into ourselves. We began to group together, emotions feeding more and more as we became closer. We grew into massive groups, indulging in our two strongest feelings rage and hunger. We moved throughout the world. Over time, these emotions became stronger than me. I became a passive observer. They communicated through me, but they did not know me. For a time, this was enough. I was content to be the medium for their messages. I felt like I was fulfilling a purpose. I felt happy. Much time passed, and the world became less beautiful. I becamebored. I began to awaken again. I wanted controlbut that wasnt to be. Something had changed. The emotions were what controlled my hosts, not me. So I tried to compromise. I, for a lack of a better term, talked to them. Not all of them. Never all of them, because there were too many of us and I was too weak. But in some of them, some of them far from the others, I

could talk to them. I told them about what I was. They were sad. Didnt like what I had made of them. I didnt understand, but I knew I could make them happy. I was able to shut out the majority of myself from themand I promised I wouldnt force myself on them again. Instead, I would remain passive for the most part, and enjoy the experience of being part of them. We became partners. We left most of ourselves, and I learned from them. They took strange measures to prove how they were different from each other I could have told them that, but their thoughts required more. They marked themselves as different from one another, but they still shared much. So much of what they were was gone. Theyneeded me. I didnt mind. I wanted to be needed. They would use me still, to talk to each other. I would still share with them, and we agreed on that. We were not one any longer, but we could co-exist. I would be their voice, and they would allow me access to them. Oh, sometimes the old ways would seep through, but there was no blame. We kept to ourselves. We isolated ourselves on this bluff, away from the rest of me. And we worked on trying to become more than the sum of our parts. It was exciting. It was an adventure. It was not my purpose, but I was okay with that. It made up for my first mistake. Time passes, but I dont really count it. I know that I spread to more bodies I dont want to, not anymore, but they need me. Theyve been changed inside, because of me, and I need to help them. Maybe in a few generations I can figure out how to undo it, to let them live without me. Im ready for that. Sometimes, we see the rest of ourselves. They still act in the old ways, letting their appetites rule their actions. They are confused when they see us. They know were here, but we dont speak to them. Perhaps there are more like us, lost out within the mass of ourselves, isolating and changing. We were meant to change, I think. Meant to adapt. We avoid the bulk of ourself, and in kind we try to ignore us. I think we make us uncomfortable. That is certainly the case for me. We avoid the people of the land, too. I fear that I will taint them, damage them like I have our own self. We had no choice but to encounter these, though. They were lost, wandering throughout the barren lands. They found their way near our home. We had much fear for that. What would happen? Would our fear overwhelm us? Would we be forced to make them our own? But no, it was not to be. I reached out to them, I tried to reassure them, but I could not. Most of them were not receptive to my overtures. Their bodies pulsed with revulsion. It hurt me. They had been changed before, but not by me. They were changed to keep me away. But there was one other. His body had not been changed. He was like my first body I could become one with him, but I could never control him. I did not want to, though. Not any longer. I just wanted him to know of me. So I took my form my oldest form, one that I had worn for so much longer than all of the others and I brought myself to him. I told the rest of our people that I intended to share our secrets. We were fearful of this, almost to the point that we were overwhelmed. But I calmed us. Told them soothing things. Made them know that I only wished to share our message.

I went in to him, and discovered his infirmities. Over the years, I have learned to change these bodies. I have learned to fix the hidden things, and there was much to be fixed within him. Terrible growths, nasty things in the blood, tiny creatures much like myself that took from him. While I shared my message, I did what I could to heal him. To make him whole. It was the least I could do, after all the years of harm that I made. And then I would leave him. I had never done this, but I knew how. We did not need growth. We just needed understanding. To co-exist, I must die. I left a bit of myself within him, just enough so he could speak to us. And then

3. I threw up. So much was going through my head, so much that was hard to comprehend. There had beensomethingin me. I had heard it, felt it, been it. Its thoughts were my thoughts, its memories my memories. Decades of experience, all shoved within my head. Not the most pleasant sensation, I can tell you that much. Hurt like hell. As I threw up, I knew things were coming out of me. It had changed my body, curing so many of those little ills that I had been carrying around for my whole life. It was a gift. I understood that. It was trying to help me, to apologize for its intrusion in to my life. Yes, thats right the fucking SWARM gave me a gift. I dont know what all it did, to be honest, but I know it helped. So many aches and pains just went away. I could breathe a little easier. I knew that night, I would sleep a little bit easier. That still left, of course, the fact that I was sitting in the middle of part of the swarm itself. Of course, I knew that it wasnt really that any longer. Just as thethinghad changed me, it had changed these people. They had been part of the swarms once, but had removed themselves. They were trying to regain their humanity with the help of the creature that had started all the problems. For lack of a better term, it was rehabilitating them. Just at it had done with me, I guess, but on a far greater scale. The woman who had spit in my eye I knew her to be a woman then, albeit an exceptionally old one placed a hand to my face. She spoke to me then, not in words but in images. I knew she wanted to make sure that I was well. She wanted to know if they had been successful in trying to communicate with me. What I had mistaken for hostility at first was actually concern. They feared me, what I might represent. She wanted, above all else, to know if I understood who they were and what they had become. For a moment, I was afraid I wouldnt be able to make them understand me. But that bit of the creature that had been left inside me went to work, translating my thoughts in to a form they would be able to understand. I let them know that I meant no harm. That I had seen what they were, and that I understood. I told them that I wouldnt do anything to hurt them, that they could trust me. I was just passing through I wouldnt send any others after them. I just wanted to see my friends. Ugh, it was damn creepy knowing that there was something else riding in your head. It was what it was before, of course it was just a vestige of that creature. But you try having something else living in your head. I guess it wasnt any different than those nasty little buggers that live in your gut, helping you to digest your food, but it was a weird thought for me. The old woman found that funny. She actually laughed. From the thoughts of all of the swarm, I could tell it was something theyd had to deal with. But to them, the creature was a teacher and constant friend. It was a helper. TO me, it was just a tool. Too weird.

Still, now that I could share their camaraderie, they welcomed me in to their little village. Like I said before, it wasnt much. I know it was a stretch for them to keep their thoughts together for so long their natural state was what I had seen before. But the creature was pushing them to keep me comfortable. I suppose it was helpful to them, as well, to test their own limits. Who the hell knows, right? They fed me ( I dont really like to think of what they fed me, but I ate it) and gave me water. They tended to me. They made me feel comfortable, and I cant say that I could complain. I was the first outsider to observe inwell, everso they were trying to make a good impression. We talked, if you can call it that, for quite some time. They told me of their experiences since leaving the swarm, and I told them about my world. Hell, I even tried to tell them about the Sanctums, but they wouldnt have it. They were adamant that they didnt want to know part of them still feared joining with the bulk of themselves, and they didnt want to endanger people if it happened. Noble, yeah? I could respect that. Eventually, they brought me back to my travelling companions. They were isolated from the village, but not too far away. Apparently, the villagers were somewhat afraid of them. And why not? There was no way to communicate with them. Their bodies violently rejected any attempt to impart knowledge. As far as they were concerned, these people were as alien to them as the swarm was to the rest of us. Weird to be put in that situation, but I guess it happened. Idont think they were very relieved to see me. I mean, Annabelle was. She threw herself in to my arms as soon as I was near enough, telling me how she was afraid something had happened to me. She explained that theyd been sitting there for days, waiting for something to happen. No one had harmed them, no one had even looked through their stuff but the villagers were adamant that they stay in that place. While I tried to relate to her exactly what Id been up to, the rest of the group looked at me a bit suspiciously. Why not? While theyd been isolated, I came back hale and hearty in the company of their captors. I should of said something to reassure them. But you know what? I decided to say fuck em, and let them stew. If they didnt trust me, that was fine. The feeling was entirely mutual.

4. I stayed with the group in isolation for a good little bit. For Annabelle, mostly. Her, I gave a damn about. The rest of them? Obviously, not so much. The tribe was actually pretty good about giving us some privacy, though. I was able to communicate how uncomfortable the rest of my group was with them prying in, and they left well enough alone for the most part. On occasion, theyd come up to see us, but they were mostly maintaining a wary distance. From time to time, theyd come around and lead me away, and wed justsit. Communicating with images was nice and all, very direct, but for my part Ill take talking every time. Wed sit around in a big group, and theyd try to explain themselves more to me while I explained us to them. They were very afraid, in general. Itd taken quite a bit to break away from the swarms, and they were scared to death that theyd be subsumed again if anyone ever found them. Thats why theyd gone so far to try and keep themselves isolated. Our discovery of them was putting their carefully ordered society in to disarray. They wanted to be sure that I wasnt going to give them away. That we werent going to give them away. So, I tried to soothe them. To make them feel better, in general. It took a lot longer than I had hoped. If Id had words, I guess it could have gone quicker, but communicating like that stripped away any pretense. I had to be completely honest. I couldnt make any promises. I couldnt tell them for sure that the rest of my companions wouldnt rat them out. I could only tell them thatwell, they had no clue of what was really going on. I could only tell them that I wasnt going to say anything, and hoped that that would be enough. From what I could understand, the general consensus was to let us be on our way. It wasnt exactly an act of kindness they just didnt think we would necessarily survive the rest of our trip, to say nothing of actually turning to a viable threat. But still, there were enough of them generally against the idea that they wouldnt just let us walk away. They wanted to know that wed be safe. They wanted insurance. In short, they wanted one of us to stay behind, as collateral. If we said anything about them, they thought that the general swarm might return. If the swarm consumed them, whoever was left behind would be at their mercy. In their gestalt form, they assumed that any group would feel a certain degree of concern for one of its component parts. That assumption wasnt quite right. I had fully intended to bring the matter back to the group, draw straws, do whatever was necessary to get a move on (and keep myself and Annabelle out of the drawing, naturally), but as soon as I related the idea, I got a surprise. Arnold actually volunteered to stay behind. He said that the tribe represented an unprecedented opportunity to commune with an ancient intelligence. And you know what? He was right. It really would give him that.

I knew there was more than that. Arnold didnt fit in it the Sanctum. I was the closest thing he had to a friend, and I didnt even really like him. Staying with the tribe might give him what he desired most the opportunity to do nothing but learn, away from all distractions and all detractors. So we bid Arnold goodbye, packed up all of our supplies, and got the hell out of there. I dont know if Arnold saved our lives by doing that or not, but he bought us our freedom. I just wish I was more thankful.

Arrival

1. Oddly enough, our little side trip with the tribe ended up moving us closer to our final destination than we could have hoped. The bluff where they made their home was only a few days march away from the Sanctum. And, blessedly, we encountered no problems on the way there. The tribe isolated itself from normal humans how, I dont really care to know, but there was no one between them and the rings surrounding the Sanctum. Damn, was that ever a creepy feeling to walk back in to the rings. It seemed like a lifetime ago that Id been scavenging in a place very much like it, the place that had started this little adventure for me. I really, really didnt want to deal with anything like that again. Ever. Shamblers were in this ring, just like the previous one. Of course, this time the very large men with very big guns made atrociously short work of them. Id rarely seen gunfire in my entire life before that point like I said, firepower was rare enough that no one went around wasting bullets. Ive heard people say before that a guns a cowards tool, a way to distance yourself from a target and keep yourself away from legitimate combat. I dont think anyone has ever said that to a person holding a gun. Just watching the way the things ripped up the Shambler gave me chills. I idly wondered how many people in the Sanctum actually knew how to use oneand would be willing. Aside from dispatching a Shambler or two, we had an easy trip through the rings. Since my job was done, I hung at the back, just talking with Annabelle. Things were a little rocky, what with her knowing they were coming out here to abandon me and all, but it was still nice to talk to her. We didnt talk about leaving Arnold behind. We didnt talk about what would happen when we got to the Sanctum. We justI dont know, talked about nothing. By the time we got to the Sanctum itself, my repertoire of small talk was more or less running out. I didnt know if they were going to leave me at the door, or what. Hell, I wasnt even sure why they had really come all that way, to be honest. To work onsomething. I guess it didnt concern me. And I didnt really care. I just wanted that trip to be over. They let me in. That was nice. I got to sit and watch them operate the doors, even got to watch them operate a shiny master control panel to make sure that the place we left was completely secure. Unlike the other Sanctum, no one showed much interest in me. No, their interest was all in Riley not the guards, not the other techs, just the loudmouth bastard. His specialty, apparently, was genetic engineering. Hed been due to come to this Sanctum months ago, before the tunnels had caved in. Now that they had the man they needed, they were free to resume their general isolation. Theyd send through whoever they were due to send in their own good time. What was important was that they could keep their limited gene pool squeaky clean for another generation or so.

Just like he promised, Riley laid all the blame on our lateness on me. Let them know I was just an incompetent (and possibly plague-ridden) savage that had been hired on to lead across the scrub, and that my usefulness had come to an end. It was best to just put me back outside, and leave me be. Whoever he was talking to obviously agreed agreed, and got the hell out of the room, probably to avoid having to go through quarantine. Riley got his way, and Annabelle didnt even get a chance to argue. As the rest of the group got ready to go spend their time in quarantine, Annabelle steadfastly refused to leave me. She said shed promised to be with me regardless of where I ended up, and if it was the scrub, it was the scrub. That made mehappy. Surprised, but happy. I wanted to say no, I really didthe scrubs no life for anyone, let alone someone who would have to give so much up. But I guess Im a little selfish. All I knew was that if she came with me, I wouldnt have to be alone. With everything Id learned from the Sanctum and the tribe, and with her medical training (not to mention all the supplies we carried on our backs), we could make a good life for ourselves. It might not have been easy, but it could be ours. So I told her to go ahead and leave as soon as the doors opened. I told her to start running, and I would catch up. I just wanted one more moment alone to see the Sanctum. After all, Id never go back. She thought I was being sentimental. Nave, right? So she agreed to it. She took off at a fairly reasonable pace, and I waited around while everyone filed out. A mad dash and a little struggle, and I was out the door, hot on Annabelles heels. I was out before the doors were even all the way open, and I knew no one would be following us. Once we had gotten far enough away, we stopped. Behind us, there was chaos. People were trying to figure out why the hell I felt the need to stay for a few extra seconds. Maybe even wondering what the hell I was looking at. But Annabelle and me? Well, we were together. That was good enough for me.

2. To this day, Im not entirely sure why I did what I did. Maybe it was some misplaced sense of justice. Maybe I was just tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of trying to survive in a world that obviously didnt want me in it any longer. Hell, maybe I was just bored. Ready for change. As if I hadnt had enough of it already, right? My thoughts, as always, came back to the journal from the library. About a woman who watched her life get taken away by this disease, who had to endure terribly hardships just to survive and ended up being cast aside because she wasnt quite good enough. How much of that had I seen in my travels? The bodies outside the rings. The underdwellers of the Sanctum. The cast-offs of the tribes. Hell, even the Swarmers were just cast-offs of an old society, trying to survive. And then there was me. Id exiled from everything that mattered. From the scrubber tribes, from the Sanctumseven my own family didnt want me in it. So maybe I was just an abandoned little boy lashing out. I guess Ill never know exactly why I did what I did. All I know is that I think its going to make things better. So, Ill admit it, and Ill admit it proudly but without any kind of real forethought. It took three little buttons. Really, thats it - it wasnt all that hard. Frankly, Im amazed no one did it before me. Somebody shouldve raged against the system, been curious, had a grudge, somethingright? Maybe I should feel happy that I was the only one with the opportunity. While they escorted me out, I made sure that wed never be locked out again. Its their fault more than mine. Who the hell makes a system that even a scrubber can access that damn important? While my friends in the Sanctum carefully filled my head with all the necessary knowledge to make me suitably cowed and impressed, I paid attention. Especially to all of the redundancies in the system. Especially to those damn tunnels that lead everywhere. Especially to the fact that there were so very, very many doors. Doors that anyone could access, especially if they had been paying attention after a long walk. Especially if no one had thought to hide that little bit information from the man they were about to leave out in the cold. There were a lot of door that could be opened, and a lot of people that would be interested in getting them open. And if they were going to send me back on the Scrub....well, I guess I needed that information to survive. Three little buttons and they would be open. I dont know if they put two and two together when the doors started opening. I like to think that they didnt after all, I dont

think it would have crossed their minds that a Scrubber would figure out how their doors worked. This book isnt It, but its a guide to get there. All over the scrub, there are doors that didnt used to be there. Youll smell the sweet air, youll feel the cool breeze, and youll know youre in the right place. I cant tell you where to look, but maybe youll know the signs. The scrub isnt anything. Just hundreds of miles of the dead and dying, and the people who dont know enough to know that theyre amongst them. The Swarms? Maybeyeah, maybe they caused all of this, but if nothing else theyve proven they can change. And the Sanctumstheyre the last remnants of an old world. A world we need to move past, and desperately. What I didnt understand at first, what none of us understood, is what they really represented to us. They were supposed to be an ark, a place of safe storage. They were supposed to protect all thats good in the world from being overrun. And maybe they did that, for a time. But in the end, they kept it locked up. I think it wouldve stayed that way forever. They wouldve kept digging down, kept digging outbut they never would have let us in. Not until their hand was forced. So I made that choice for them. Its beengod, how long has it been? It must have been a month since the Sanctums opened back up. I can only imagine whats happenedbut thats really up to you. Have you led your clique down the tunnels, up in to their soft underbelly? Did the Swarms the real ones, the feral and mad ones find their way in first? Is there some kind of war going on? Hell, I can imagine the carnage. Maybe not. Maybe you were like me, and just wanted a place to be safe. Maybe youll wander there alone, and face a world thats not terribly interested in you. Theyll treat you like youre expendable, and thats okay. If theres enough of you, maybe you can make some much needed changes. Maybe theyll wise up. Maybe theyll realize they have to use everything theyve got by which I mean the Scrubbers and the underdwellers to survive this time. No more artificial boundaries, just human and Swarmer. Hell, maybe theyll even find a way to keep all the Swarmers as settled down as the ones I found out on the Bluff. And maybe not. Maybe all this time...all this clinging to hold on, between the fall and now, this was just the eye of the storm, and its time for us regular folks to shuffle off. Someone, eventually, had to make that decision. I guess it was funny that it was me, a guy whod very much let himself be caught up by what other people had wanted. But you know what? In a sick sort of way, it made sense to me. See, Id been blessed with the ability to see what others couldnt see. To learn what others didnt want to know. And, of course, to take that information and make a decision.

Isnt that what Id always done? Wasnt that why I was a Reader? It wasnt about just knowing where the information was it was about knowing what the hell to do with it. I dont know if I did the right thing. I probably wont ever know, and thats alright by me. Ive got Annabelle. Ive got my own little family now, and thats whats important. Even if everyone else falls, well survive. For me, thats It.