Thread: âOverexposureâ - Survivor00 & darkangel76

Someone near the end of the tunnel whistled, a loud, shrill noise that echoed through the station platform. With an unspoken signal between them all, the salvagers began to climb aboard the railcar as one group. Arthur settled down on one of the unforgiving wooden benches on the side of the cart, shrugging off his pack and setting it on the floor between his legs. He sighed in relief as the heavy weight was taken off his shoulders and spine, leaning back and staring up at the domed ceiling overhead. Once everyone was seated and accounted for, the aging truck motor grumbled to life, spitting a cloud of exhaust fumes out behind it. Twin spotlights on the front of the tram flickered on. Colonel Winchester bellowed out at the top of his lungs. ??Open the gate!? At the end of the platform, a large, steel gate groaned on it hinges as it swung out into the darkness of the tunnels beyond. Men with assault rifles aimed into the void, and up near the top of the fortifications, a machine gun even poked its snout out. The spotlights mounted to the side cast a strong beam into the darkness. Mutants rarely came this close to the stations ?? too bright for them, maybe. Or they were smart enough that they had learned there were defenses, and were avoiding them. Arthur hoped it was the former, because the latter meant they could also be smart enough to find other ways into the station. With the motor growling heavily, Winchester slowly opened up the throttle, and the railcar jerked once before it rolled forward. Arthur glanced around at the other salvagers, at their reactions for being sent out into the tunnels once more. Tucker clutched an old pair of rosary beads in his hands, and was mumbling a prayer for protection. Virgil seemed calm, glaring into the dark as if his hatred for it would drive it away. The railcar passed through the gate, bathing the darkness ahead of them with a sickly light. Twenty years without maintenance had taken its tolls on the tunnels. There were patches where the concrete had started to crack, dirt and debris sifting down from above. The rebar mesh was starting to rust and warp in places. Every day, it seemed like another tunnel had collapsed. Soon, he wasn't sure how they'd go about moving around. Groups of men patrolled these tunnels ?? they were still under human control. They waved to railcar as it passed. One of them tossed a pack of extra magazines up to them. They were passed around eagerly. More ammo was never a bad thing. Another gathering of men sat around a fire pit behind a fortification. They laughed at a joke that Arthur had failed to hear, but they turned and whistled and cheered as the railcar passed. The tram rattled up the old subway rails, passing by the ??Dead Man?? fortifications. The sandbag emplacements and the men that manned them were the first line of defense if something were to attack the station, be it human or mutant. They would also be the first to die. They looked up at the tram as it passed by, and Art turned his head to look away. Their faces...their eyes...had a haunted look to them, they were men who had stared into the maddening abyss for far too long?and the abyss had stared back. ??Masks!? Someone hissed urgently, and Arthur felt the first tugging of some something vile in his lungs. Without thinking, he scooped his mask over his head, reaching down to check his watch to see how much time his filter held. He sucked in a breath of filtered air, grimacing. This was how they would be breathing until they reached wherever the hell they were going. The Winch hadn't even told them what they were doing. Along the floor of the tunnel, he could see almost a soupy sort of fog, condensed vapors of the most toxic sort. How anything could live out here was beyond him, but these mutants had adapted. Some of them had once been humans at one point, too. The railcar rattled into another station, this one too damaged to serve as a shelter. Instead, it was a gateway to the surface now. The tracks were blocked by a makeshift barricade made of pipes, tires, and barbed wire. There were gaps in the barricade from mutant attacks, but it seemed to have held up fairly well. The railcar groaned to a stop, coming to rest just inches from a collapsed chunk of ceiling that no one had bothered to remove from the tracks. Arthur took the Bastard off the strap, holding it tightly in his grip. From above, he could feel the bite of cold air, it made his skin prickle even under all of his layers. It was the feeling of death scraping its fingers over you. Climbing off the railcar and onto the dusty platform, he took position by one of the doors leading up to the surface, listening to the wind howling through the ruins of the old world. Carefully, he eased the gate open, peering outside, before rushing out and sweeping the area with the SMG. Dumb mistake - the light from above nearly blinded him. But he pretended like nothing happened, or else someone would comment. After a moment, he called through his radio. It's all clear. Stretching before him was the run down escalator that had once carried hundreds of people underground each day. Snow drifted down from the sky, dusting some of the steps with it. Like a moth drawn to the flame, he found himself walking up those frozen steps, growing closer to the surface.