The Boy in the Tunnel

By gardnerlinn

6.1K 231 80

Fall semester. 1997. At a strange Southern college, freshman Tim's eerily prescient Student Handbook tells hi... More

Fall 1997, Chapter 1: Tim
Fall 1997, Chapter 2: Chet
Fall 1997, Chapter 3: Kenya
Fall 1997, Chapter 4: Audrey
Fall 1997, Chapter 5: Dick
Fall 1997, Chapter 6: Alex
Fall 1997, Chapter 7: Lata
Fall 1997, Chapter 8: Tim
Fall 1997, Chapter 9: Joanie
Fall 1997, Chapter 10: Kenya
Fall 1997, Chapter 11: Renee
Fall 1997, Chapter 12: Alex
Fall 1997, Chapter 13: Tim
Fall 1997, Chapter 14: Dick
Fall 1997, Chapter 15: Audrey
Fall 1997, Chapter 16: Lata
Fall 1997, Chapter 17: Tim
Fall 1997, Chapter 18: Joanie
Fall 1997, Chapter 19: Kenya
Fall 1997, Chapter 20: Chet
Interlude: Stairway to Heaven, 1984 Pt. 1
Interlude: Stairway to Heaven, 1984 Pt. 2
Fall 1997, Chapter 21: Tim
Fall 1997, Chapter 22: Renee
Fall 1997, Chapter 23: Joanie
Fall 1997, Chapter 24: Dick
Fall 1997, Chapter 25: Kenya
Fall 1997, Chapter 26: Alex
Fall 1997, Chapter 27: Chet
Fall 1997, Chapter 28: Joanie
Fall 1997, Chapter 29: Tim
Fall 1997, Chapter 30: Lata
Fall 1997, Chapter 31: Audrey
Fall 1997, Chapter 32: Kenya
Fall 1997, Chapter 33: Chet
Fall 1997, Chapter 34: Renee
Fall 1997, Chapter 35: Joanie
Fall 1997, Chapter 36: Tim Pt. 1
Fall 1997, Chapter 36: Tim Pt. 3
Fall 1997, Chapter 36: Tim Pt. 4
Fall 1997, Chapter 37: Kenya
Fall 1997, Chapter 38: Alex
Fall 1997, Chapter 39: Joanie
Fall 1997, Chapter 40: Chet, Pt. 1
Fall 1997, Chapter 40: Chet Pt. 2
Fall 1997, Chapter 41: Tim Pt. 1

Fall 1997, Chapter 36: Tim Pt. 2

33 1 0
By gardnerlinn

"Who's there?" said Tim.

"You have the Cloak. Do you want your reward?"

Tim stepped into the dark room, trying to make out any discernible features. But the light from the hallway only seemed to penetrate a few inches beyond the door.

"I thought you didn't get the reward till the end of the game."

"No, I have it here. Come closer."

This is an obvious trap. Well, clearly. But there was something behind the voice. Something rumbling, almost subsonic. Bass, from another room. Tim could almost place it. He just needed to get a little closer – try to catch the melody. He took another step in. He could hear, distantly, a whine like a dying siren.

He was pretty sure it was "Gin and Juice."

Two hands lunged out of the darkness. Tim sidestepped them, and the Shambling Horror fell in a heap on the floor like a pile of lawn clippings, half in and half out of the dark room.

He looked up at Tim. Tim hadn't caught his name. "Help," he said, but before Tim could answer, he took another swipe at Tim's ankle. Tim danced out of the way.

"Nice try," Tim said, momentum carrying him backwards toward the stairs. He shouldered through the door and descended. He took the steps two at a time and had his hand on the door to F2T3 when he remembered it belonged to the Blues.

He looked back up the stairwell. The Shambling Horror couldn't pursue him, but he could be lying in wait for Tim to return. The stairwell itself was Blue, if he'd read Jay's heavily-marked-up map correctly. But it only connected F3T2 and F2T3. He could only go forward or go back up.

"Goddamn it, Tim," he said, after thirty seconds had passed with his hand still on the door. He decided to risk it. He'd probably already lost the game anyway.

Tim kicked open the door and waited in the stairwell, hoping the noise would draw out any waiting Blues. But no sound came from the other side of the door. Tim stepped into the empty hall, as dead as the one above.

If he knew where the Red Mausoleum was, he could go there and try to head off Stacy before she could find it, or if she'd already found it, at least take the MiloBall and try to find the Blue Mausoleum. But Jay hadn't shared that bit of information with him. "You already jumped two levels," he'd said. "You don't get to know all the secrets."

The rules say he doesn't have to tell you where your own team's Mausoleum is, but there's no strategic reason not to tell you. Unless he's concerned you'll fall victim to the Hoop of Truth, but the chances of that happening are so slim that it's worth the risk to tell you where the Mausoleum is. Withholding that information is nothing more than a power move. But some would argue that power moves are the true foundation of MiloBall, so it's in keeping with the spirit of the game.

Tim crept up the hall, listening for the scuffling of feet or the sound of a secret door opening. The hall didn't follow the same curving path as the one above. It deadended in a T-intersection. To Tim's left was another stairwell. To his right, another 40 feet of hallway, ending in a security gate like the one on his own hall, though unmanned, and just beyond that, a sharp right turn.

Tim poked his head into the stairwell. It only went up, probably straight to the fourth floor. He couldn't remember if the stairs themselves were Red or Blue territory.

It might be smart to go up to the fourth floor. It would make sense for Jay to put the Mausoleum there. From what you've heard, lingering at the mailboxes or waiting in the grill line at Weston, the fourth floor is even more of a maze than the rest of Wintertree. He might have even put it on the roof – which has an unbelievable view of campus and has earned such a reputation as a sure-fire can't-miss location for sexual encounters that the RA put up a sign-up sheet. Or, again, so you've heard, anyway.

Then again, can even the mysteries of the fourth floor top the criminal thrill of hopping the security gate, without having to answer one of the RA's inane questions? This supposed security measure is, like Jay not telling you where the Mausoleum is, a useless gesture that serves no purpose but to remind you who holds the power.

(It should be noted that the security gates and their associated interrogations were not part of Stanley Wintertree's original plans for his namesake residence hall. They were implemented in 1984, in the wake of a rather embarrassing mishap involving a secret "party room" that was in violation of several University Housing regulations. Ron Marston, then the RLC of Wintertree, added the security gates to cut down on what he saw as the problem of residents spending too much time in rooms that were not their own, and wrote all the questions, which were intended to be somewhat more difficult and thought-provoking than they are. In a minor act of protest, the authors of this Handbook decided to provide a simple key to the answers, so that Marston's idiotic scheme inconveniences you as little as possible.)

Tim jogged down to the security gate. He'd hoped to get a glimpse at the binder the RAs always consulted to ask their questions, but the little desk was bare. Grabbing the gate in one hand and the Cloak in the other, Tim vaulted over. As his feet hit the ground, another player rounded the corner and stopped right in front of him.

Stacy was still holding the MiloBall. "Shit," she said. "Must have taken a wrong turn."

Tim's body acted before his brain even knew what was happening. He tagged her on the arm so hard the MiloBall flew from her hands. "Okay," she said. "Jeez. You got me."

"Sorry," Tim said. He chased down the ball and tucked it under his arm. "So you're frozen now, right?"

"That's right. Fifteen minutes."

"You don't want to tell me where your Mausoleum is, do you?"

"Not really."

"Okay. Sorry I tagged you so hard. I just got excited."

"Yeah."

"Is this hall still Blue territory?"

"Sure. Let's say it is."

Tim started down the hall, in the direction she had come from. "Hey," she said. He turned around. "Good luck finding the Mausoleum." Stacy smiled, but not as a friend.

19. When a player deposits the MiloBall into the opposing team's Mausoleum, he is to take a picture of the ball in the Mausoleum using the Polaroid camera, and then bring the photograph to the Head Referee. The Head Referee will then accompany the player to the Mausoleum to verify the win and declare victory.

19a. After a player deposits the MiloBall in the Mausoleum and takes the picture, an opposing player may then take the ball and attempt to deposit it into the other Mausoleum. If he can do so and place a Polaroid of this accomplishment in his own Mausoleum before the Head Referee arrives to verify the win, his team will be declared the winner.

Tim headed for the stairs at the end of the hall. Victory was now in his grasp. All he had to do was find the Blue Mausoleum. From what he could remember from the map, aside from the outlying halls he'd been patrolling, most of the Blue territory was clustered on the western side of Wintertree, on the first and fourth floors. He'd just have to go over there and start searching, though it'd be best if he could find another Red or two to accompany him, to help look for the Mausoleum and to run interference on Blues. It was even possible someone might have learned something in Conference about the Mausoleum.

The best way to find another Red was probably to stage a jailbreak. There was certainly at least one player in Gaol he could team up with.

11. Each team's captain chooses the location of his team's Gaol. All players and referees know the locations of both Gaols. Each team's Gaol must be a room within that team's territory, and must have at least two separate entrances. One player may be posted inside the Gaol room to serve as a guard, though this is not required. Only one player is allowed in his own Gaol at a time. There is no limit to the number of opposing players who can be imprisoned at one time.

12. A player may free his imprisoned teammates from the opposing team's Gaol by entering the Gaol and tagging them. Once an imprisoned player is tagged free, he is subject to being tagged and imprisoned again by the guard or another opposing player. There is no immunity or neutrality for escaping prisoners.

The Blue team had chosen Wintertree's gym as their Gaol. It was in the basement in the northwest corner of the building, accessible via a stairwell at the far end of F1T2, and via a door in the laundry room. F1T2 was Blue territory; the laundry room was officially Neutral, but it could only be reached through a stairwell on Blue-controlled F1T1. There was also an outside door to the laundry room, but it had been made very clear to Tim that stepping foot outside Wintertree was grounds for immediate forfeiture of the game.

Tim decided the safest route was to get down to the lobby as quickly as possible; it was a Neutral zone, and there he could catch his breath and gird himself for a dash through F1T1 to the laundry-room stairs. He tried to wrap the MiloBall in the Cloak, so it wouldn't mark him as such a valuable target, but it was still obvious through the fabric and more awkward to carry. As he unwrapped it he discovered that someone had drawn a King Milo on the scuffed purple leather.

"Any advice for me?" he asked Milo.

"Are you talking to the ball?" Stacy was still frozen by the security gate, ten yards back down the hall.

"No."

"You know I'm only frozen for fifteen minutes. You better run, because I'm coming after you."

Tim took another look at Milo. The dead king remained silent. Tim ran, into the stairs and all the way down.

He reached the lobby unmolested by any more Blues. It was nearly as empty as it had been hours ago. One guy in a fedora sat alone, watching Army of Darkness on the TV. Tim walked over to the security door on the lobby's west side. Ben was manning the desk. He looked up briefly from his crossword. "Congratulations," he deadpanned. "You're winning the game."

Tim considered the MiloBall. "Not yet." He peered through the glass security door. He could see the stairs to the laundry room, about a third of the way down the hall on the left. The hall looked just as empty as the ones upstairs. "Ben," he said, "have you seen anybody from the Blue team lurking around?"

Ben didn't look up from his puzzle. "It's against the rules of MiloBall for me to assist either team."

"I read the rules. That's not in the rules."

"It's frowned upon. This is a Neutral zone. I, therefore, am Neutral."

So much for intel. He'd have to take the risk and just run for it. "Can you buzz me in?"

"I'm Switzerland. Swipe your card."

Tim fumbled in his pocket for his ID card. Frickin' Ben. Power moves, just like the security gate. He finally found it and swiped it, then placed his hand on the scanner.

"Tim?"

Tim turned around. Neal was standing at the foot of the west lobby steps, along with three other people: another dude who could have been his twin, a voluptuous blond girl wrapped in a fluorescent orange fur that reminded him of nothing so much as Hulk Hogan in his feather boas, and the Indian girl from his American Lit class. Miss Khan. She looked at Tim, perplexed.

"Levitt," she said. "Why are you wearing a cape?"

To be continued...

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