The Game at Carousel: A Horror Movie LitRPG

Book Eight, Chapter 54: Logging Off

“It makes sense,” Antoine said. “The Arbiter wanted this mission to go forward for so long. It was never clear why he couldn’t get it done before. Turns out, it was because he had. He’d been sending people out secretly for years, I bet.”

We were all trying to get our appropriate reactions in.

“Think about all those times we veered off the road, like we were circling around. Are there dead people there, too?” Anna asked. “Have we been walking past dead people this whole time?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Well, it is an apocalyptic wasteland, you couldn’t really expect anything else. I just thought the bodies would be a bit older. I wonder who this guy was.”

I knelt down beside the skeletal remains of our fellow traveler and then grabbed at his ArGIS unit. It wasn’t like he was using it. The ringing sound was still going off after Anna used the call function.

I gently pulled the device off the skeletonized arm, silenced it, and began flicking through the screen. It was an older model, but like all technology in Carousel, it basically did whatever I wanted as long as it was plot-appropriate.

I had to look between it and my ArGIS several times before I noticed several differences. The first was under the pathing tab. The map he was given was far larger than the one we had.

“Look at this,” I said. “This guy was given a lot more information; his map shows half a mile in every direction, maybe more.”

“They learned their lesson there,” Antoine said angrily. “Can’t really lead people into the middle of nowhere if you give them too big a map. They might start thinking for themselves.”

“And look at this,” I added. “He has a log feature.”

I clicked on the button. “It’s an audio log.”

Our devices didn’t have that ability. Maybe the top brass had decided to substitute the audio logs for strapping a camera to one of the surveyors.

We all knew what audio logs meant. Carousel loved them because they were great for spooky exposition, and since we had decided to cut back this way, we had technically earned it. So I expected to learn a lot.

Cassie grabbed my arm and started flicking through the audio logs. She was, after all, the communications expert.

“Here, just take it,” I said, releasing the device to her.

“A lot of this has been corrupted,” she said. “I don’t know what could have caused that.”

She wasn’t exactly being a genius when she said that. The file names were literally replaced with the word corrupted. It was Carousel’s way of only delivering the relevant information. Instead of listening to some guy talk about a tree or a squirrel he saw, it would only be the stuff relevant to the story.

“Well, let’s hear it,” Antoine said. “But before we do, maybe we should set up camp. I don’t like to stand around outside.”

One quick tent later, and we were all gathered around the tiny ArGIS device, listening like children at a campfire to find out what we were up against. To find out anything, really.

The logs began with a readout of the number, the date, and the time. Simple stuff.

[LOG 18 2311.08.14 07:42]

“This is Cole Maddox again. Survey Team Bravo. Day nine. Or ten, maybe. We’ve left the outpost and are heading toward the signal source. I was glad to leave those military types behind. There’s a reason they were sent to live on the edge of the known world. They’re wackos. The ArGIS is taking us on some weird routes, but I guess that’s the calibration thing they told us about.”

He sounded out of breath as he walked and talked. I could hear his footsteps crunching on gravel. If he was just leaving the outpost, we had probably tread on the same ground recently. He sounded like a confident, fairly intelligent man. Maybe he was even cocky.

“Excited to see what’s out here. First time beyond the outpost. First time for anybody, in hundreds of years. I just wish I could have told my dad. He would have been proud. Not sure why this had to be a secret. Anyway, time for breakfast.”

[LOG 19 2311.08.15 19:47]

“Day eleven. Lena keeps saying she hears something. Like a woman talking, just out of earshot. The rest of us don’t hear it. Probably the wind. It does things out here. I asked her to try responding to the voice, and now she is. She’s talking to the wind. Who did they send me out on this trip with?”

[LOG 22 2311.08.18 04:51]

“Didn’t sleep. Kept hearing Lena outside the tent, asking to be let in. Lena was inside the tent. She heard it too. Either I am on the receiving end of the worst practical joke imaginable, or my imagination really is getting out of sorts.”

[LOG 23 2311.08.18 12:38]

“Lena’s gone. She went to get water and didn’t come back. We searched for two hours. Found her canteen by the stream. Nothing else.”

The silence afterward lasted about thirty seconds, during which all that could be heard was the wind and the rustling of leaves, and maybe, if I was being imaginative, the briefest sound of someone, a woman, talking.

“Her voice is still out there. I can hear her calling. The others say I’ve lost it. I’m just going to ignore it now.”

[LOG 25 2311.08.19 06:14]

“Gregor won’t stop talking about his grandmother. He says she’s been visiting him in his dreams. Telling him he’s almost home.”

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He sounded scared and confused. The tough guy who had begun these messages was beginning to deteriorate.

“Gregor’s grandmother died when he was six. He sees no contradiction. I wonder if he was a natural birth. Maybe he’s talking about his other grandmother. Who knows.”

[LOG 26 2311.08.19 22:07]

“I need to put this down while I’m still thinking straight.”

There was a long pause. The bravado was gone from his voice. I heard only frustration. Frustration that he would not be able to explain what he wanted so desperately to explain, even to himself.

“At first, it could have been anything out here. Then it was her. Does that make sense?”

[LOG 27 2311.08.20 15:33]

“Found signs today. Old wood. Old paint. ‘Turn back. If you hear the call, don’t answer.’ Who made these signs? Was someone out here before us? We were supposed to be first.”

[LOG 33 2311.08.24 05:22]

“Gregor walked into the forest last night. He said his grandmother was making soup. We tried to follow, but our lights wouldn’t reach him. It was like the dark just swallowed him. Something smells good.”

[LOG 35 2311.08.26 09:00]