We continued to follow the barren concrete hallway which lazily zigzagged back and forth—though it never branched or split. With the community radio station fixed firmly in mind, I cast Unerring Arrow more than once to make sure we were headed in the right direction. Each time, though, the blue beam ushered us deeper into the underground complex. There were no rooms, no windows, doors, exit signs, or even a single Dweller in sight. And because the fallout tunnel was a vestigial remnant, it was blessedly free of spores, so we didn’t even need to bother with the gasmasks.
The mood was tense, and everyone was quiet, except for Croc who prattled on endlessly to Ed about water slides and all the water parks we planned to visit.
“Dan says he’s been to a water park, you know? But on the outside. Dan’s the coolest, don’t you think? He’s done so many amazing things. He even told me about a place called Disney Land that has a full waterpark but also has a bunch of different roller coasters—which are basically just really big slides if you think about it.” The mimic sighed with longing. “I dream about it sometimes, you know.
“Honestly, I can’t wait. We went on the big slide inside the Jungle Gym Jamboree, which was just the best, but in the water levels, there are slides like that everywhere—and instead of dumping you into a ball pit or a vat of acid, you splash right into a big pool filled with water. There are some slides where you sit on these rubber dinghies, and then whoosh, right down a tube you go. And no one’s trying to chop your head off or eat you.”
Croc’s tail wagged energetically as it talked.
“Jakob was telling me about this slide down on the 119th floor called the Kraken Blaster. Sounds terrifying, but in a fun way. Like “Oh no, I might die!” but then you don’t die, and you’re laughing by the end. Brilliant. So excited. I’ve even been working on transforming into a rubber raft, do you want to see? It’s pretty good. Even better than my chair impersonation.”
Ed—bless his heart—did his best to seem interested.
After almost three hours of steady trekking, the hallway finally came to an end, this time at another emergency exit door, labeled WBSC – Sunnyside Community Broadcast Station.
“Gotta be honest,” Ed said, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he eyeballed the door as though it might be a mimic in disguise. “I never actually thought I’d make it this far. I kept working on Big Bertha because… Well, because I needed something to live for after everyone else died. But deep down?”
He let out a short, humorless laugh.
“Deep down I always thought it was a fool’s errand. Just a way to keep myself moving—keep myself sane, y’know?” He turned toward me, the lines on his face deeper than I’d ever noticed before. “No matter what happens, Dan, you and your friends have my deepest thanks. For helping me get this far. It means more than I can say. Now fingers crossed that this actually works…”
Ed unceremoniously shouldered his way into the radio station.
The door wasn’t even locked.
Eerie red light coated everything, but the first thing that really hit me was the smell—coppery, wet, and rancid. Thanks to my time in the Backrooms, I’d become uncomfortably familiar with the scent of blood, but this was more than that. This was blood, but wrong. Cancerous and infected. If I had to guess, I’d say this was the essence of Blight. The dim, flicking red light cast faint shadows, making the walls glisten as though they were covered in sweat.
But it wasn’t sweat. Rather, it seemed to be some sort of mucus membrane.
Enormous, curved pillars that looked for all the world like giant ribs, lined the walls. For a moment, I felt like Pinocchio trapped inside the belly of the enormous whale, Monastero. Just like back at the preschool, the floor beneath my boots was spongy and unsettlingly squishy. Each step sent ripples through the fleshy surface, and the building groaned—a deep, guttural sound that echoed through the basement. Tangled wires dangled like veins, dripping thick fluid that pooled in glimmering puddles.
Shelves that might’ve once held tapes and radio equipment were now fused into the living walls, the wood and metal warped and assimilated into the sinewy surface. In one corner, an old broadcasting console sat half-swallowed by the floor, its dials and knobs encrusted with dried blood stains. There was a rickety metal staircase on the far side of the room that connected to the floor above, but the basement itself appeared to be abandoned.
Interestingly, though, when I consulted my mini-map it gave me a strange reading.
The entire thing was a red triangle. Every square inch of it.
I couldn’t make sense of it, especially because there was no immediate threat in sight. No Sunnysiders preparing an ambush or Swarmlings hiding in the rafters, waiting to rappel down on top of our heads like special forces, Nightmare-edition.
“Jakob, Temp,” I whispered, “post up near the staircase. Make sure nothing interrupts us.” I propped open the door leading back to the underground hallway we’d come through. “Croc,” I said, directing my gaze at the rubbery blue dog. “Keep this door open. I want a way out if something goes wrong.”
If this turned into a shitshow, we could always backtrack into the tunnel, bar the door from the other side—just like I’d done with Mr. Wiggles—then hoof it back toward the preschool.
“You can count on me, Dan. I’m solid like a rock and I never let anyone down. Well, except all the Delvers who died,” the mimic amended. “But that mostly wasn’t my fault.”
“As always,” I said to the mimic, “you’re a well-spring of confidence and reassurance.”
The dog beamed, not realizing I’d meant for the remark to be sarcastic.
I turned back to Ed, who’d finally removed the disruptor from his Storage Space. It now sat in the middle of the basement, the spongy floor bowing slightly from the weight of the bulky contraption.
“So this thing is really gonna to stop the signal and take the HOA down for good?” I asked, studying the enormous machine with no small amount of doubt.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“In theory,” Ed said, not looking up as his hands continued their frenzied work—toggling switches, checking wires, and pressing an almost absurd assortment of buttons. “Think of it like a giant organic EMP. First, it’ll jam the signal by broadcasting our message loud and clear. That should take care of the Sunnysiders. All of them, all at once.”
“Even the elites?” I asked.
“Even the elites,” Ed confirmed with a nod. “Then, once the sequence has finished running, it’ll fry the Nexus and prevent the signal from ever coming back online.” He paused and glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “We’re gonna give this place a goddamned lobotomy.”
“Good enough for me,” I said, squatting down besides the man. “So what are we waiting for? Let’s flip the switch, get the fuck out of dodge, and call it a day.”
Ed grimaced. “Yeah, about that,” he said, faltering for a moment. “’Fraid it might not be quite as simple as I made it out to be, kemo sabe.”
“What the hell do you mean ‘it isn’t as simple as you made it out to be?’” I asked, doing a crudely impression of his twangy drawl. “Back at the bunker you made it sound real easy.”
“That’s because if I’d told you the truth,” Ed said, “I was afraid you wouldn’t help me.”
“Are you fucking with me right now?” I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Please, tell me you’re just fucking with me.”
“Fraid not,” he said, still working furiously at the machine—cranking nobs, adjusting wires, tweaking dials and input settings. “But we’re in too deep to stop now.” He jammed another wire into place. “If you want to kick my ass later, fine. I’ll pencil it into my schedule.” He gestured toward a pile of sharpened metal rods, each about as long as my forearm, connected to the machine by a tangled mess of coiled rubber tubes. “For now, though, I need you to take those conductor spikes and stab ’em into the ground. Deep. And make sure they’re evenly spaced—we don’t need any of them shorting out.”
I glared at him, barely able to contain my anger.
Ed pretended not to notice. “Come on, don’t drag your feet now,” he said. “The quicker we get this started, the better. The full run sequence takes the better part of half an hour, and trust me, we don’t wanna be standing around when the HOA starts figuring out what we’re up to.”
“The better part of half an hour?” I growled, staring daggers at him. If we weren’t deep behind enemy lines, I would’ve punched him right in the mouth. “Are you kidding me? Flip a switch, the signal goes down. That’s what you said.”
“I believe I already covered the part where I lied,” Ed replied flatly.
“You really think the hivemind governing the HOA is just going to let us sit down here for a cool thirty while you mess around with the signal that governs their entire society?” I asked, not bothering to mask my anger. “It’s going to send Sunnysiders after us, Ed. A whole shitload of ’em—”
“We should be fine,” Ed said, dismissing my concerns. “Like I already told you, once the sequence starts, the signal will go down. That means it won’t be able to mobilize any Sunnysiders against us.” He paused, glancing up briefly. “Now, it might have some other defensive mechanisms tucked away—but nothing you and your friends can’t handle. Just buy me the time I need, okay? This process is… complicated and unfortunately it isn’t automated.” Then he gestured toward the pile of metal rods. “And help me with the goddamned conductor stakes, will ya? Less whining, more stabbing.”
“This is such utter bullshit,” I mumbled, before summoning Synthia and Drumbo for a little backup. “Temp, Jakob, just a heads up. This might take a little longer than we initially planned on. Someone”—I openly glared at Ed—“might not have been entirely forthcoming about how this process works and we might have some visitors before long, so just hold down the fort as best you can.”
Synthia and Drumbo trundled over to the staircase, while I busied myself with Ed’s stupid conductor rods. I hefted the first one and stretched it out, away from the disruptor until the rubber tube was mostly unfurled. Then, for the first time in ages, I used my hammer for its intended purpose and drove the first stake into the floor. The ground began to burble and gush, sticky black goop spurting up as the building quivered and shook like an angry dog waking up from a long nap.
Uh-oh. That didn’t seem like a good thing.
I pounded in the last three spikes in quick succession, and each time the building groaned in protest, the foundation trembling and shaking more violently than before. Once all four stakes were firmly in place, I helped Ed prime the disruptor itself—throwing a few extra switches then channeling a thread of mana into a huge bank of sigil-scribed batteries. The disruptor buzzed angerly, colorful lights blinking on and off while bright strands of purple electricity arced back and forth between a series of antennas protruding from the top of the machine.
A palpable energy had begun to build. It was the same energy that filled the air right before a lightning storm.
“This is for Rick,” Ed grumbled under his breath. “For Michael. For Priya. For Aaron, Laura, Asha, and Ella. For all the friends who couldn’t live to see this because you fucking took them from me. Karam’s real son of a bitch.” He yanked an oversized lever and arcs of brilliant power surged downward, flowing from the disruptor, through the spikes I’d driven into the ground, and directly into the foundation of the radio station.
A second later, all of the ancient equipment embedded into basement walls screeched to life, accompanied by a blaring rendition of Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall.”
The funky beat and thumping bass line erupted from everywhere all at once and as it did the ground swayed violently as the building moved. This wasn’t like before, though. Not some minor tremor of annoyance. The entire radio station shot straight up into the air then tilted precariously on its side.
“Dan, help!” Croc shouted just seconds before the building lurched sharply, and the mimic tumbled through the open door. The hallway was gone, replaced by a dark stretch of suburban roadway sprawling out far below.
What in the hell was happening? I found myself wondering.
But before I could get any sort of answer, Ed slammed into my side like a sack of bricks and the pair of us went sliding and rolling in a tangle of limbs.
Woodstock squawked madly as I scrambled to stop our fall, but everything was happening too fast, and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do. My fingers clawed for purchase, but the slick mucus coating the ground made it impossible. Before I could latch onto anything solid, we plunged through the open door, tumbling into the night just like Croc had moments earlier.
Darkness had settled over the entirety of Sunnyside and hanging in the sky like a huge bloody eye was the moon. A ball of bleeding crimson.
We were two, maybe three stories up, and while I was fairly certain a fall from this height wouldn’t kill me, it definitely wouldn’t be a pleasant experience. Worse, a not-so-small army of Sunnysiders had gathered below, waiting with huge eyes, slack mouths, and upraised arms. The illusions masking their inhumanity was gone—banished by Pink Floyd—and all that remained was a sea of monsters.
Acting on instinct, I triggered Neural Slip Stream and time stretched and slowed as my body melted away and I became a being of pure, ethereal thought. Since I was no longer physical, Ed’s flailing limbs quickly separated from my own as the man plummeted toward the ground. I could make out Croc’s blue form, already down on the asphalt. My heart leaped into my throat and tendrils of icy fear raced through my veins.
Croc’s rear legs were twisted at an unnatural angle and the dog wasn’t moving. A swarm of adult Sunnysiders had encircled the mimic’s body, though they hadn’t started actively attacking yet. They seemed to be confused and disoriented by the sound of the music, just as Ed had promised.
That was one piece of good news, at least.
Ed and I continued to careen downward, but for me it all happened in slow motion. Knowing that I had the time and that the impact wouldn’t hurt me in my ethereal form, I pirouetted gracefully in the air, turning and flipping to get a better look at the radio station behind us.
Except it wasn’t really behind us anymore at all.
Now it towered above us.
Suddenly, the pure red triangle I’d seen before on my mini-map made sense.
Everything had been red because we’d been inside the radio station and the radio station itself was a living creature. The HOA wasn’t some nebulous force or some secretive governing body, it was a single massive Dweller. A floor boss. A blighted kaiju made of meat and houses.
And we’d just woken it up…