It took me a few days to get back home and settled in again. Malkoris and Beebles could tell from my mood that I was not in a frame of mind to talk and share what I had learned. That only heighten Malkoris’ anxiousness. We had become so in tune by this point he could sense my tension from how I moved and the phrasing I picked. What I had learned brought home to me how close to death the three of us had walked early on in this journey together and left questions as to what I could possibly do with the information. Beebles busied herself with consolidating the information we had collected into a selection of child pages found beneath the Quick Reference page making it easier for people to hear the words we spread to the population. I was glad to see her keeping herself busy. Searlait was making herself scarce and that concerned me more, as I had become jumpy and was starting to look at shadows.

My protective detail of the Sharks had become pissed off at my reckless actions in ditching them to go off into the wilds alone. I suppose lesser people would have left us to our own resources but instead they doubled the patrol and those who shadowed me wouldn’t let me out of their sight. The lack of privacy was starting to grate on my nerves and I was becoming snappy with everyone. On top of that Rite Aid had cut off communications more or less as they were digging into their own leads and I had no way to consult with them on what I had learned. By the weekend I found myself with an old television turned on flipping channels. Most displayed emergency broadcast signals though there was one station still active and broadcasting on behalf of the government within the Green Zones. I found myself glaring at the woman in her clean cut jacket with her makeup on tactfully and her hair artfully done up. Clearly her position within the Green Zone was not hurting her career as she showed mock concern for all the poor survivors of the terrible stiffness disease out here in the wilds.

With a snarl I threw the remote at the television. In my mind I had pictured something a lot more dramatic. Something like the screen smashing and the remote left sticking partway through a crackling broken machine. Instead what happened was more comical. As the remote hit the television one of the buttons must have been pressed. The television changed channels and I found myself staring at a new face, and a brand new news station. This one could not be occurring in the Green Zone, unless they were faking a survivor broadcast – a thought my paranoia did bring to mind. He was dressed in a suit that looked somewhat rushed without the make up for presentation holding a stack of papers in front of him. Behind him on what looked like a chalkboard was a tasteful design that displayed the letters KSAT. The young man brought his hand up and ran it over his head before smoothing the soul patch on his face quickly.

His eyes flickered off screen as if to confirm that he was on the air before speaking, “This is Lessifer of KSAT bringing you the news, the real news out here in the wastelands. This week crisis struck up among the survivors with the release of the brand new “The Shenanigan”. Rival groups claim to the benefits over the costs while other groups are proclaiming that the black market and the New World Bank are seeking to bring down our fragile economy.

Also in news, rumors are circulating about a group currently researching a new form of armament, hybrid pug and horse cross breeding. Those who claim to have knowledge are stating that “The Pugg” will become a brand new eco friendly form of transportation that has the strength of a horse but the fierceness of a pug to attack zombies. Critics are suggesting that the hypo-allergenic dog may have not been the best choice in today’s warfare. To quote the rumored creator, ‘Hey, we work with what we got. Plus pugs kick ass.’ This is Lessifer of KSAT bringing you the latest news here in the wasteland. Tune in for your non propaganda reviews on what’s really happening out here every hour on the hour.” The screen went back to fuzzy.

I leapt from my seat sending a nearby stool crashing and causing my current guard to jerk to attention bringing his gun up towards the window and then the door. “What? What now?” His irritation showed me that he was equally tired of sitting in one place and likely equally tired of my bad mood.

“I know where I need to go.” I left the room hurrying to pack. Word was going to spread like wild fire of KSAT. The longer they were live the more likelihood the government or the Cult would shut them down. I had to get there first and put out the message to reach as many people as possible.

Before I left I shared with Malkoris the information I had gathered and received his insight. He was cautious about how I would approach this television station, as it was not unlikely that they had already received many crackpot reports on all kinds of things. Would they take me serious? This time when I left Terry Fox it was under full armed escort. Tenda Foot had arranged for a vehicle with tinted windows and bullet proofing to transport me which I was itching to drive. I wasn’t the only one however and the Sharks were both bigger and antsy from having been inside the school for over a week. I took my place in the backseat and settled in to study the paperwork I had gathered. It was precious little so far. I had so many questions but there had to be someone out there alive still who had the answers. Maybe someone who noted what direction the leader had been taking and left before it was too late. I could name a few names I hoped to be among those who survived.

By the time we reached the building that was under guard by KSAT staff I was just about ready to take over the station by force and put myself on the broadcast. We pulled to a stop and I turned to peer at the building and the snipers trained on us. Softly I spoke, “We can’t sit here like this. They are going to fear a car bomb. I’m getting out; you pull back to the perimeter and wait for me.” When the protests began I spoke quickly, “This is how it will be done. I need you to get me here and I need you to get me home. You’ve done that. I take you two in there and I will get no trust. Face it; you guys are scary as fuck and not human anymore.” I soften the harsh words with a smile adding, “That’s why I trust you. It’s humans that are screwing us over -again.” I threw open the door and climbed out, bag over my shoulder resting on the opposite hip. My hands came up in the air as I walked forward to the building in a surrendering motion. I could hear the car start up again and coughed a bit from the dust it stirred up as they peeled away from me.

The snipers allowed me to enter the building but the guards at the entrance searched me and removed all guns on me. I noted with some gratitude that they took none of the paperwork on me. It also worried me, as it was starting to look more and more like I wasn’t the first “crazy” person to show up with a bundled up theory of what really happened to the world. Under guard I was taken to the fifth floor, noting that we took the stairs. When I reached the fifth floor I could see why there had been a need to walk. The elevator shaft opened to a gaping hole with dangling cables. Apparently somewhere along the way it had been cut sending the elevator into the basement. Escorted forward I passed what looked like a news bull pen, with people rushing about. There were several figures monitoring the CVC while others seem to be taking in calls on CB radios. Others seem to using some kind of high tech radio equipment to monitor signals. Young people as young as ten from appearance rushed around providing coffee. I could tell there was a bonding experience happening by how the adults responded to the coffee bringers and how more than one child referred to their “boss” as dad or mom. This was a family operated news station, dedicated to bringing the truth out.

Moving into an office I was left as a gaunt faced man with the weight of the world in his expression gestured I take a seat, “what can we do for you miss?”

“My name is Chryram of Terry Fox,” I was cut off as he brought up his hand.

“Can you prove you are who you say you are?” His expression intensified upon me. How good or how bad would it be that he knew my name? I reached into my pocket for my ID and brought out my old driver’s license. The man studied it for a few moments before standing up still holding the ID. He moved to his door and barked out a few orders. Another young “intern” appeared to take the card and rush off. Moving back to his seat, he spoke again, “I am Ezekiel Stone. We have heard about you Ms. Chyram.”

“Please just Chyram.”

“As you wish, are you here for an interview?” His tone was careful, fishing for the reason I had come to him.

“Mister Stone, have you heard the rumors about the Death Cult that has been stalking survivors?”

“Yes we have heard rumors, but so far there has been little solid proof. We’ve done a few pieces reporting on your exploits, at least when we can get the truth. It seems that Algiers Point is not willing to comment on exactly what occurred when you were their guest. Perhaps you would like to make a public statement on that occurrence?”

I shook my head. It was still better that the Cult saw no direct evidence that I worked with a safe house that was supposed to be staying neutral. “Alright then what have you brought us instead?

My hands reached into the bag and pulled out a picture to put it onto Ezekiel’s desk. “A picture of the Cult Leader and more, I know his name. His name is Charles Wagner.”

Ezekiel studied the picture with a frown, “this is a fairly grainy image. If we put this on the air a lot of innocent people could get hurt, you realize. People are on edge as is.” The young intern returned to put my license on Ezekiel’s desk with a folded piece of paper. He unfolded and reviewed the response, apparently satisfied with what he saw as my driver’s license was handed back to me. “I’m sorry Ms. Chyram but I’m not prepared to see a hundred innocent men killed by causing a panic declaring this image as the leader of a Death Cult.” The room swayed around me and my hands gripped the edge of my chair. Inside my head I could hear myself screaming and Ezekiel’s next few words were lost to me.

It had been months since I had seen Charles. At that point we were all just struggling to survive and find some place safe to hide. We barely had any supplies so when Wagner showed up with his caravan heading north promising people that the zees would freeze and they’d be safe heading north it wasn’t a shocker that Joseph, his wife and their son Samuel had gone with him. When Charles prediction of zee freezing didn’t occur that winter I often wondered what happened to Joseph and his family. In all my wildest speculation the thought that I had handed over a portion of my group to a mad man had never occurred to me. My eyes refocus, returning to Ezekiel. I had no idea what he had been telling me, but it appeared he had noticed that he had lost me and paused to wait for my return.

“Chyram, how about we get you a coffee and you can start by telling me everything you know about Charles Wagner.” I nodded my head and drew in a breath. I was never good at sales, but for once in my life I had to sell someone on the biggest deal I had ever faced. One way or another Charles’ face was getting on that screen.

  • Safe House: KSAT-TV
  • CVC Level: 7
  • Current Recorded Members: 36
  • Overall Opinion:I’m a big believer in providing communication in and outside a game if you’re forming a group. So I was surprised and a bit frustrated at first in my efforts to get to know these people due to their lack of a PAL group. Some of the members have PAL but never use it. This confused me given that two of the members are extremely active in Global Chat. In fact one of them is a MOD. But KSAT has something that I am a fan of, a forum. What they need are more people, not just in the safe house but to be active in their forum. There are tips found within that are decent and the same two who are vocal in Global Chat are quick to respond in their forum. I have found their turnaround time to be less than twenty four hours when I post. From talking and asking questions on the forums it seems as if the safe house has couples and more than a few members who are active in the military. That has resulted in a PG-13 safe house that has little drama (hurray for drama free safe houses!) but who have a group of members that check in once or twice a week to contribute rather than daily. So far I’d place them as a casual and laid back place to be with room to grow. If you want a place to make a name for yourself, and be active in a social manner this might be a spot for you. They are also the only safe house I’m aware of attempting a news letter on their forum which I enjoyed browsing. Their forums does accept guests to post in public sections.
  • Communication: Safe House chat, CVC Global Chat for Safe House invites (1/2 fees when invited), Please Stay Calm Forums, KSAT Forums

Thanks to puggamoo for the awesome idea in armor and for allowing me to broadcast about it!

Comments
  1. Lessifer says:

    teehee, the soul patch, classic 😀

  2. Lessifer says:

    I thank you profusely for not using my actual ugly mug 😉

  3. puggamoo says:

    What we need, is more pug bell. =)

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