This is the second part of an adventure series where YOU determine the next step in the story. Read part one. Vote in the comments below or on Twitter at #TheMark.
You decide to avoid the gargoyles and search for another way in. You signal your team to fall back another 30 yards. A few minutes later, the team gathers behind the wing of a 757 that protrudes from the ground like a shark fin. You pull a map of the city from your bag and point at a remote spot at the edge of the airfield.
No one looks happy, but they seem to understand that it’s your best chance to avoid more human-demon hybrids.
You jog to the east edge of the airfield. Scraps of planes, service vehicles, and towers lay heavy on the ground and give plenty of cover. Halfway to your entry point your nostrils twinge with a familiar foul scent. Directly below you is the maze of ventilation ducts of New Milwaukee’s processing plants that turn thousands of pounds of cow dung into electricity and fuel. The processing center is only reachable through a narrow, methane-filled passage. The team has small oxygen packs that are just enough for a one-way trip. You’ll have to move fast.
You reach the service grate and bash open the rusted latch with a rock. Metal rungs descend into the shaft. Small ducts appear opposite of the rungs. You climb in first. The smell of manure turns your stomach.
At the 19th duct, you stop and hoist yourself across. The methane is thicker here, making you light-headed. You activate your oxygen pack and don the mask. Almost instantly, your head begins to clear.
You crawl deeper into the duct. While you wait for your team, you hear a skittering sound ahead, but you can’t tell if it’s coming from inside your duct. You remove your night-vision goggles, grab your flashlight, and shine it into the passage. About fifty feet ahead the passage turns left. The way is clear. You stash the flashlight back in your pocket and put your goggles back on.
The trek through the ducts is quick; you’ll even have a few minutes of oxygen to spare. As you near the end, the temperature rises dramatically, threatening to bake you in your body armor. The metal beneath you bends more easily under your weight. You must be over one of the processing tanks.
You signal your team to space out to keep from putting too much weight on the ducts. The soldiers in the rear hang back. As you crawl forward, the duct beneath you lurches. You realize you’re putting too much pressure on a seam between the panels. You start scrambling past when the panel beneath you gives way. You feel yourself fall through the air for a few terrible seconds, then splash into a large vat of thick and slimy material. Instinctively you grab your rifle and scramble to your feet. You hold the rifle over your head. An unlucky teammate is doing the same thing.
You’re both standing in waist-high manure. The walls are sheer metal except for a three-foot pipe that gushes manure into the tank on one side. The rest of your team is looking down at you from the mangled duct fifteen feet up.
You have enough oxygen to last another 25 minutes. Your team could haul you both out, but that would take a lot of time and most of your oxygen. Instead, you could crawl through the pipe of manure, though you aren’t sure where it leads. Either way, you could run out of oxygen before you make it to safety.
What do you do?
A: Have the team haul you up out of the tank.
B: Crawl through the pipe.
We want your vote! Vote in the comments below or on Twitter at #TheMark. Voting ends Tuesday night. The highest vote will be the next step in the story, posted on Fridays.
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Image courtesy of Matthew Harrison Blue.
Voting for Part 2 is closed. Thanks to all who participated!
Jen Kirchner 
Nice.
Well, since I’m already covered in crap, what’s a little more? Fortune favors the bold and smelly. I’m crawling through the pipe (B) and making sure everyone else gets covered in fecal matter right alongside me.
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C’mon… This weeks option is akin to taking candy from a baby 🙂 We are all familiar with the pithy, ubiquitous WWJD musings, correct? Well, since the mid 90’s, I have adhered to a strict WWAD mantra? As in, Andy Dufresne, of Shawshank fame… He inspires me, greatly. So I am taking my chances, Jen ((( B ))) hoping I too can crawl through a river of shit and came out clean on the other side…
Also.
As our fearless leader, I have a rather odd inquiry at this time; particularly so that I’m caked in fecal sludge… but what is the… ‘Fraternization Policy’… amongst unit members on these excursions? Just Sayin’… Inquiring minds want to know: I ask for educational purposes only 🙂 (!)
lp
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Ew. B. I refuse to die this way, waiting for a rescue. Plus, I’m assuming all the other guys have to jump in and follow me? Just in case I happen to dislike one of the members on my team.
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Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuh….B. Final answer.
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Well shit.
I’m starting to question our motives here. Do we, perhaps, have a thing for manure? I mean, we didn’t take much time to look for another way in…
“Alright team, we are going into this manure vent…”
“But…there’s a door right…”
“Nope. Manure.” licks lips
In movies they always continue on and leave the team at the top. It makes things much more interesting. So, let’s do that. Me and my buddy will handle this. Those shitless bastards can take care of themselves.
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Nice. Good to start the weekend covered in shit.
Manure is no big deal. I grew up shoveling shit. Hell, I used to play with G.I. Joes in mounds of the stuff.
B. I live for this shit.
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Come on in, the water’s fine! B it is.
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Going with A.
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Crawl through the pipe, might as well have an adventure while I’m down here.
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Well crap… (ba-dum-bum)
B
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I can’t believe you literally covered us in crap because of our vote last week….nice. That said, I’m not scared. Bring it. I’m moving forward – B, baby!
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Well that is a surprise.
No way I am having someone haul me out of the toilet. Time to see where the flushed stuff goes. By the way, I’m totally calling the rest of the team down into the crapper with me. The team that poops together…
B – Climb in the pipe.
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I ain’t goin out like this. Pull me up. I choose A.
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I’m not one to think things through or anything, but if I climb through a pipe and have no idea where it leads, won’t I be alone? And if I’m the leader of my team, who’s going to be left in charge if I disappear? Don’t I need to command the team, or was that just my megalomaniacal tendencies popping up? If there are insane-o gargoyles running about, it seems like it’d be best to keep the team together. I’ll take choice A. Hoist me and the other dude up.
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Well, that stinks…
I like the Andy Dufrane reference, and want to go that way…
Considering that a teammate and I fell through into this tank, that means the rest of it can’t be that sturdy as well.
Grr… Can’t decide… Well, I’ll go alphabetically, so A!
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I’m going with option A! I’d rather go for the for-sure route as opposed to the other.
Who wants to wind up in the same pit of sludge of the scene in Star Wars with the giant water creature?
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We are already in it and will continue to stink long after we get out. May as well continue.
Onward! B
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Oh man I keep sneaking in to vote at the last minute!
Smell never killed anyone. B!
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Well, we’re already up shit creek, might as well go for the pipe. Besides, chances are it just leads to the cows that create the manure, and hopefully they aren’t too well guarded.
B, baby.
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A – it’s not smart to get separated from your team. Think about how that usually turns out in stories…
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The voting for Part 2 is now closed. See you on Friday, October 21, for Part 3!
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