No one's left. Not of the underground, anyway. Me against the night. I've collected several thousand dollars from a few of the meeting locations, stashed in the usual spots. Two of three were empty, secured and fully stocked. Nothing there but me, a stack of dusty old magazines and books, some food in the fridge. Got the cash and not much else, no weapons, no keys, no maps. So I wound my way through town until I hit the final gathering point.
Big mistake.
Cops everywhere, on street corners, knocking on doors, you name it. A crowd had gathered around the last point, bright yellow caution tape keeping them back. I tried to mingle with them, get an idea of what happened. Multiple homicide turns out. Words from some of the locals was the building was used by lots of shady types, going in at odd hours and all. Consensus on the street was that it was one of those cult suicide pacts you hear about on the news every now and then. I left, didn't need to know any more details.
And now I'm bunked in some ratty old motel for the night. Not the safest place, but it'll take them a couple days to find me. I've got to think, think think think. I need a plan and a place to move. Money is no issue. Lodging might be.
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