Thursday, August 9, 2012

Act III, Chapter 20, "Choose Your Own Adventure!"


The first chapter of Act III!

Act III. Snap

Chapter 20, “Choose Your Own Adventure!”

It’s time to choose your own adventure, folks!
            Jack just woke up, in the cool blue of early dawn. Annie, Paula, whoever she is, had disappeared. She had taken his words seriously, and left. Where to? Jack’s not sure. But he isn’t worried about it. He’s more worried about what he’s going to do. There seems to be nothing compelling him to move in any one particular direction. No push, no pull. So you lovely readers get to help determine his fate. Here are the options that came to his mind:
            A. Swim across the lagoon and try to find the hole in the cliffside that Golbez and Blake took their motorboat through, and go wherever it took them.
            B. Jack remembered Golbez mentioning a secret route to the treasure via some sort of mine. He could try looking for that passage in the vicinity of the temple and ride the cart wherever it took him. To the Cardaccians, they had said.
            C. Trek on foot through the jungle in the direction of the smuggling facility and see what comes up. Do some exploring.
            D. Lie down and get some more rest. Wait it out. Something’s bound to happen if he waits, isn’t it?




A.
            Jack sat for a while, still waking up. His back hurt. Sore everywhere, sure, but his back most of all. Even if one is tired from walking and running and deceiving and shooting and felling rope bridges all day, a bed of pure rock is still not a good idea.
            The best way to wake up, he knew, was to just jump in the water. He felt no doubt in his mind that he was meant to follow after Golbez and Blake. If they could make it down the river in an old motorboat, Jack felt sure he would be safe swimming it. Going down that tunneled river would most likely take him directly to Golbez. As to why he needed to see Golbez, he did not think much. It just felt like the right thing to do. For some reason or other.
            And so, with that choice planted firmly in his mind, he dove into the lagoon, leather jacket and all. Well, he didn’t really dive, it was more like stepping. He stepped into the turquoise lagoon, slogging through the shallow part until it was deep enough for him to actually swim. He swam the breaststroke, of course. Faithful readers will know why.
            The water felt great. Not cold at all, and actually quite warm. Like when one gets used to the cool water of a backyard pool, except in this case it was instant.
            Given that it was an isolated body of water, the lagoon pressed no currents against him and he was able to cut through the water sharply, in a direct line from the rocky beach to the opposite side’s cliffs. The real challenge was going to be finding the passage the motorboat had disappeared into.
            And that’s where Jack failed. He made it to the other side successfully after about ten minutes of swimming, and searched the entire edge of the lagoon, checking between every crevice, behind every crag. At least he thought he did. But nowhere did he find any space large enough for a five-foot wide motorboat to pass through, let alone open up into a full-on underground tunnel river thing.
            The one upside? He got his sore muscles moving again, and his back pain had been soothed by the work. But overall:
Wrong choice.
So he breastroked it all the way back to the island shore.
Try B now.




B.
            The idea of a hidden minetrack passageway from the Cardaccians had intrigued him since Golbez first mentioned it last night. He remembered Annie telling him that she had been shown the location of an abandoned mine by Djetta’s wife Madje. It was only a brief mention, and Jack hardly remembered even being told, but as soon as Golbez had said the word “minecart” it had popped instantly back into his head. He just hadn’t had occasion to bring it up with Annie.
            But he decided to search for it, the entrance to the secret mine. From the Cardaccians he could find his way back to the facility fairly easily. It might even be as simple as boarding the train once he got back to Butterknife Bay. He had a slight suspicion that if he got on the train then it would be a horribly boring and anti-climactic climax to this whole journey, and it would leave several questions unanswered, several plot threads incomplete, several character arcs unfinished.
            But getting out of here was his primary motivation, was it not?
            Anyway, he didn’t give it much further thought. His curiosity about the mine passage needed to be sated, in any case. And he could give the purple cantaloupe seed to Djetta while he was at it. That seemed important to him, for some reason.
            He started searching up the stairs, on the upper part of the island. He didn’t have a system, nor the presence of mind to come up with one, so he spent a lot of time crashing through huge jungle ferns at random, expecting at any second to come upon it. It wasn’t until at least a half-hour into his search that he thought to check the rockier parts of the island; it eventually made sense to him that a mine would be carved into a rock, but who even knows if that makes any sense.
            So he found the shipwreck again, and worked his way in a pattern from there, following and feeling every curve in the black rock, examining every nook closely for a place to press a button or pull on a pointed stone to make a secret passage reveal itself.
            And to everyone and no one’s surprise, he found it! Nowhere near where he was looking, however. It took him the feeling of failure to find it; he had surrendered and was descending the stairs to the beach when he thought to look out over the side. See, while the stairs led down to the beach, the beach did not necessarily lead only to the stairs. There was an area of the lagoon that he had not explored or even known existed until that moment, and after rushing down, he made an immediate turn to his left and followed the stone staircase wall along a tiny shore till it met a secret little cove. The beach here had white sand, but was uncomfortably boxed in. And here, in a corner, he found the secret mine passage, bored into the black rock of the island. At first it was something of a cave-like corridor, lit by a random flaming brazier hanging on the wall. It then opened up into something...bigger.
            The beginnings of three railway tracks were laid next to one another on the ground. The one on the right had an actual cart on it, some kind of dual-motor device on its sides. The tracks themselves were less like railways and more like roller coasters, and the huge cavern beyond was big enough to hold them. The tracks went up and down like hills and valleys, with banked curves twisting and turning in and out of each other like Medusa’s hair, and leading so far into the darkness that the torches on the walls weren’t enough to illuminate them in their entirety. The scariest aspect of all this is that the ground, about ten feet out from the tracks’ starting points, ended. Jack neared the edge and looked down, and found nothing---just blackness, as if it went on forever. The supports for the railways went all the way down into the black nothing. How far down that was, Jack hoped he never came to know.
            Theoretically, this led to the Cardaccians. That was a long, long ways away. Could it be trusted to take him that far?
            He might as well find out.
            After making sure his leather jacket was on snug, he climbed into the lone cart and sat down; it was roomy enough for two people. He found two lighted buttons on a little control module. One was green, the other was red. He glanced at the other two tracks beside him, noting their lack of carts and wondering why only this one remained. One must be at the other side, he determined, already at the Cardaccians’ “abandoned mine.” At the moment when he was about to push the green button, he hesitated, and followed the track with his eyes as it swam serpentine into the darkness. He almost clambered out of the cart, a little too nervous, but then remembered his stance that he wasn’t afraid of anything. Well, he was afraid of something, but not of this. Not of the darkness, not of heights, not of hyper speeds. He would do this.
            He jammed his finger on the green button.
            A sound like a chainsaw roared to life, and a headlight on the front of the cart came on. It put-put-putted for a while, before suddenly lurching forward, pushing Jack against the back of the cart. It hurtled forward on the track, zooming this way and that. The cart banked to the right and Jack, gritting his teeth, had to lean hard against the right side of the cart to keep it balanced. Then another turn, this time to the left, and Jack had to do the opposite. Then it went up, up, up, and the slope became so steep that the cart had to chug, chug, chug ahead to reach the peak, peak, peak. Jack, sweating furiously, breathed a sigh of relief as it found level ground at the top. But with every crest comes a trough, and when the cart started forward and Jack finally saw the near-vertical slope the cart was tipping towards, and the nothingness below it. As it began its plummet, he screamed.
            Don’t worry; it was a masculine scream, not a little girl’s. No, that would come later.
            But he did nearly faint. It leveled out fifty feet later in an almost cruelly perpendicular fashion, and that’s when Jack nearly lost consciousness. In any case, he didn’t have the presence of mind to properly balance the cart on its turns, but it didn’t matter; the cart did not tip as it did a mighty U-turn, swinging around till it started going back the general direction it came. Given Jack’s absence of mind, he did not notice it, and after a few more ups and downs, across and arounds, the cart, fast as ever, approached solid land again. At the last possible second, a device on the track caused the cart to brake, and it screeched to a halt a mere two inches away from the end of the track.
            Jack, breathing heavily, climbed out of the cart, making sure to hold onto it until he was sure he was on solid ground and away from the void’s edge. He walked in a daze out through the torch-lit stone passage and emerged...
            Into the secret, uncomfortably boxed-in cove.
            “Wha...?” he said. Then, as he realized that particular track only led him in a big circle back to where he had started, “Damb it!”
            Wrong choice.
            He meandered his way back to the place where he had awoken.
            Go ahead with option D.




C.
            He chose to walk, but only because he wanted to check something first:
            The green glowing plinth.
            So he trudged up the carved-out stairs, back aching and mouth grumbling. Walking might not have been the best choice after all. So he withdrew his choice to trek all the way through the jungle and made the temple his only goal.
            As he arrived in the clearing, he saw that the temple door had opened. Little Sophocles must have begun. This thought made Jack smile. More of a smirk, actually, but not meant to be mean. A pleasant smirk, it was. Happy for the Higginses.
            He crossed the clearing and was halfway up the stairs when he saw that the green glow around the far-right plinth had disappeared. He dashed over to it and gripped the sides of the stone top. The symbol carved there offered no insight as to what the artifact was. He glanced around and found that the other plinths had all retained their color and glow. He remembered their names coming to his mind as he gazed upon their symbols, but no voice spoke as he stared harder and harder at the damb thing below him.
            “Gah!” he finally shouted.
            The thought struck him that maybe he should go inside the temple. The door was open, after all. He had no pressing appointments, other than the train.
            Oh yeah, the train. That was his motivation, wasn’t it? Tired, grumpy old Jack had come close to forgetting about it. He felt lost on this island as if in some kind of personal hell. Though he had been here only a few days, it seemed more like forever, more like September through June to an elementary-school-aged child.
            But today, supposedly, was to be his summer. Right? Today he would be leaving. Finishing his tour.
            He looked up into the sky. Overnight, a group of gray clouds had gathered. Definitely not summer weather.
            “Then what the hell,” he muttered. And he took a few steps toward the open temple doorway. But he stopped short of the threshold. He heard yelling---he looked to the clearing and saw, of all things, Vanasmas sprinting toward the temple.
            Ryan again? Jack thought.
            But no, it was not Ryan. The cause that propelled Vanasmas to the temple steps was Jack himself.
            “Nooooooo! No no no no! It’s my turn! Get away from there! It’s mine! My turn!”
            Jack looked at him with the confusion and curiosity of a dog having just been swatted at by a cat.
            Vanasmas leaped up the stairs three at a time, finally landing right before the open entrance, where he stopped to regain his dignity.
            “By the spirit of Swiftfast, I have beaten you here,” Vanasmas said with a triumphant arrogance as he caught his breath and adjusted his clothes. “And by the power of Burro Bill’s hind legs, you will not enter this temple and steal my prize.”
            With that he strode in, as if he owned the place. He might have; Jack wasn’t sure about the origins of this temple.
            The door started sliding down. Jack heard a high-pitched yelp from Vanasmas before the stone hit the ground.
            Jack sighed and frowned, then made his way back down the steps.
            Wrong choice.
            You might want to try A from here.




D.
            Jack sat and waited, trying to figure out exactly what he wanted and why he wanted to do it. That had to be decided before he did anything.
            He was in a strange place right now: a main character without much drive or desire. The train and all, and leaving the island, yeah, but that all felt so empty. What was it that made it so?
            He watched as the clouds darkened overhead, an astonishingly subtle parallel to his mood.
            I’m burned out, he realized. Yeah, that’s exactly what it is.
            He had been running, chasing, shooting, jumping, for far too long. Not just on this island, but everything that came before it. Every bad guy punched, every damsel rescued, every master plan foiled...all were converging on this point. This day.
            Yesterday he had felt similarly; it had been a day of irritation---the first signs of a burn-out. He had thought it to be mere tiredness, exhaustion from moving around so much. But sleep clearly hadn’t helped. It had merely made it settle in more permanently.
            What would help? That’s the question he had to answer.
            Getting off this island. Crawling into a real bed with blankets and pillows and sheets. Modern plumbing. A nice character-driven book to read. A real, genuine love life to pursue. Something apart from all the adventuring.
            It sounded nice.
            But it all revolved around successful rebellion against the gods. That would require cleverness, deeper thinking. Jack didn’t know if he had the strength or even presence of mind to do that. One more day. Could he even last that long?
            He wanted to give up now. The question arose, though---would the gods let him? Were they even still in control? Nothing had been happening to him for far too long...
            But Jack, in this version, didn’t know about the other choices he could have made. He didn’t know that things were happening, just not in his presence. Yes, Jack McDowell: things do happen when you’re not looking. Life occurs off the pages as well as on.
            If you chose D, go back to the others and catch a glimpse of what this Jack is missing. Try C first.




See? See what I have to live with? How every choice you try to make leads you back to where the gods want you? That’s what I have to deal with. On a constant basis. While I might appear to have options, they never affect the outcome. And what’s a choice if there is no consequence attached? It’s meaningless, that’s what. Not a real choice at all. Remember that.
Now, as a result of any of those choices, I’m here, sitting outside this door, doing nothing, waiting for something, perhaps my death, perhaps global warming, but all the while definitely and truly and completely alone. At least Annie had her other selves to talk to. I’ve just got you.




Jack decided to write a note to Hilti.
            He didn’t have paper, but then he did, and a pen, too. On it he wrote the following:

We both need to get off this island, and unless you’ve got a plan already, I have a way you can help all of us out. You once piloted an airplane; now I ask you to drive a train. Catch the train that will be circling around this island today at Machete Bay, to the west. Take over as engineer, and we may be able to leave Rainswept Isle together. There may be a password or series of passwords to get through checkpoints, and I intend to find out what those are. Don’t worry about me; I’ll find you.
-Jack
            P.S. Your wife looks lovely. And probably, “Congratulations.”

            He was just thinking of a place to put it so Hilti would find it when all of a sudden the gray slab sliding door slid open. He spun on the spot and found...Mortimer.
            “Mortimer!” he said.
            Mortimer almost leaped backwards in surprise, which would have been terribly detrimental, as the stone door slid down again, closing off the exit.
            But now Jack’s attention leapt immediately from Mortimer himself to the long green glowing thing he held in his arms. The glow enraptured him, and he stared at it a long time, almost rudely, immodestly so. It looked like...
            The Sonic Scepter, said a voice in his mind.
            It was indeed a scepter, like one a stylish and flamboyant king might wield as a symbol of his reign. At the top it had something that looked like the head of a Phillips screwdriver. The scepter itself wasn’t green, but it gave off the same kind of glow the plinth by the entrance had.
            And that’s why the glow had disappeared. (Jack decided.)
            “That’s...” Jack said, still gaping.
            “Oh, is it a real thing?” Mortimer said conversationally. “It was one of the four optional prizes I had the chance to receive upon completing the challenges!” He sounded excited. “Do you know how many puzzles I had to solve to get out of there? Do you know how many symbols I had to interpret? It was an AMAZING ride! Although I may have accidentally drunk an elixir of immortality in there, too...”
            “That’s one of the sacred artifacts,” Jack breathed. “Do you know what it does?”
            “I don’t, actually,” said Mortimer.
            “Then why did you choose it?”
            “I’ve always liked the color green. It’s always been mysterious to me, I suppose,” he said with a shrug. “It’s why I came to this island.”
            “Isle. Mortimer, can I...ask you for it?”
            “What? Oh, sure. I don’t need a prize for doing all that. Those puzzles I had to solve were totally worth it just for themselves!”
            Jack drew back a little. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”
            “Of course not! Here, take this. I want to go on the ride again!”
            “What, you mean go through the temple again?”
            “Yeah. I think the puzzles might change each time someone solves them. So if I went back through it, I’d have brand new mysteries to crack! Especially with the rising lava levels. Though I did find it interesting that the lava didn’t make the entire thing an inferno; it wasn’t hot at all in there.”
            “Yes...” said Jack, weirded out. “I’ll just take this, and you can---oh, wait. I should tell you. It’s closed right now; someone went in a little while ago. Plus, I have a favor to ask of you. Can you wait here and deliver this note to Hilti Higgins when he comes out with his wife, Clara? It’s about getting off this island. If you want to, you can include yourself in our plans.”
            “Sure,” Mortimer said, taking the note and looking at Jack ambiguously.
            What a useful character, Jack thought.
            “What is this thing, anyway?” Mortimer asked as he handed the Sonic Scepter to Jack.
            “Something very special,” Jack said. “I’ll let you know when I find out for certain. But I do have a hunch. Oh hey, whatever happened to the three Johnsons that went in with you?”
            “Oh, they got stuck on one of the puzzles, I think. I went way ahead of them. I think I may have seen the couple you mentioned, but only for a second. They were trying to play through. Like in golf.”
            “Interesting. Vanasmas might catch up and help them out then. Hm. Mortimer, may I borrow your belt?”
            Mortimer again consented without question. Without even a word. He just loosened the buckle and pulled it out. Jack took it, then withdrew the treasure map from his pocket. Then, with some engineering that was clever beyond description (literally), wrapped the scepter up into the map (they were of the same length, about two feet long) and attached the belt to the wrapped-up scepter in such a way that he was now able to sling it over his shoulder and wear it on his back like a quiver of arrows, except without the arrows or any cavity in which to deposit them.
            “NOW I’ll be able to find that damb tunnel in the cliff! It’s all about the timing, Mortimer. Remember that. All about the timing.”
            “Yes sir!” Mortimer said, even going so far as to salute Jack.
            As Jack once more dove/slogged into the lagoon, he reflected on his emotional state. He sensed that even though he had gained some much-needed excitement from Mortimer’s appearance (and all that came with it), this had not totally solved his feelings of burn-out. Indeed, as he found quite easily the cliffside cave, and the river that flowed through it, he was already feeling tired again. But...the random rowboat floating just inside the tunnel, tied to a rock, cheered him up a bit. It was called the Ex Nihilo.
            “That was a freebie,” he murmured. And then, as he started paddling, he woefully wondered why he had yet to be called “Captain Jack” so far in this story.




The trip was fascinating. The tunnel was not a natural occurrence; its sweepingly circular overhead arc made that quite clear. It looked to be built with the same stone and in the same architectural style as the temple.
            Occasionally it emerged into daylight, and when it did it felt like a fun little family vacation safari trip. Jack finally got to see all the jungle animals that had so far eluded him---a family of gorillas, a boa constrictor, monkeys chattering in the trees, insects as big as his hand crawling on overhanging branches, and even, he thought he saw, a moving, carnivorous plant. Jack thought he might have even seen a glimpse of Ryan the T-Rex. Maybe he was lost? Regardless, the water flowed at a steady pace (though not especially quickly), so Jack was never in danger of being eaten or stung or bit or rammed.
A few shafts of sunlight pierced through the rain clouds, lighting up the greenery and displaying some of the most beautiful rainbows Jack had ever seen. But soon enough, the water took the Ex Nihilo underground and into the darkness again, and he let it do so. He laid back in the boat during the dark periods, but it didn’t help his fatigue.
This particular stretch of tunnel seemed to be lasting a longer time. Eventually, though, it emerged into sunlight, and this, he knew, was his destination, as it was Golbez’s. He rose in the boat to get a better look at the facility.
Boxcutter Bay. It had to be. Looked very much like Butterknife Bay, with all the same kind of buildings and ugly chain link fences, and the long curved cove, but...but there were no people there. Or rather, very, very few. There were a couple figures here and there, but no work was being done. And in the background, Jack could see the lonely train tracks, and the last station the train would have to pass through. It all looked desolate. Silence reigned in this dead place.
The gods tipped Jack out of the boat by placing a waterfall ahead of him and making it louder in his ears than it actually was. He got to the grassy bank successfully, but the rowboat fell down the waterfall and into the nothing from whence it came.
Where Golbez’s motorboat went is another question entirely. Suffice it to say, it doesn’t really matter. Stop caring about all the little details. No god-writer is perfect, all right? If you’re so worried about something so small, go right your own damn story.
The clouds temporarily receded as Jack made his way boldly down the hill to the facility, giving the sun leave to dry off his wet clothes. When he was sufficiently dry, the clouds once more passed over the sun.
Minutes later, Jack was down in the compound, wandering brazenly through the barbed-wire fences and empty warehouses. It had the look and feel of a place that was about to be shut down. No one but him and a couple of people in the distance.
And a third one crossing just in front of him, facing slightly away.
Jack froze, made no sound, as the woman walked across the sand---tight black clothes, dark hair with streaks of gold, and a figure to kill for.
His heart sank as he recognized Paula.
So, he thought. That’s her choice.
And once more he was hit with a sudden weariness. He took a deep breath before following silently behind her. As always, his eyes were drawn to the curves of her figure, but he refused to take pleasure in the sight. That was exactly what she wanted; it gave her power over men, and Jack refused to let her have that power with him.
It was hard, though.
She gave the impression of nervousness, looking back and forth quite frequently, but conveniently never over her shoulder. Jack wasn’t quite sure why he stayed in the shadows, why he didn’t just confront her and be open about everything. Maybe he wanted to see the results of her choice, what she meant to do by choosing Paula. He also imagined that she might be heading for Golbez, and Jack wanted to know where that was without giving himself away.
They were passing through the usual smuggling staples into a different part of the facility. These buildings looked smaller, different. Like law firms or small businesses. Maybe even a dentist’s office. A whole collection of them gathered together, empty and abandoned. Just beyond the these, Jack could see, was the train station.
Paula entered one of the buildings through what looked like a back door. It seemed to be a restaurant or diner. He stealthily entered after her and found a kitchen, counters covered in stainless steel and filled with ovens and dishwashers and sinks and shelves and pots and pans and bowls and plates. The second Jack heard Paula speak he ducked down behind one of the kitchen’s multi-sink islands.
“Why meet here, Golbez?” Paula said in something of a flat voice, not typical of her at all.
“I was feeling hungry,” Golbez said in his cheese-grater of a voice.
“There are no cooks or food here.”
“See, that’s the no-fear truth-telling I’ve been missing. You took a long time getting back to base. Where’ve you been, lassie?”
“I’ve been around,” she said. “Doing that secret mission. So how have things been?”
“Hungry,” Golbez said miserably. “Something’s off. Like my best friend moved away. I feel like...no, here it is. I feel like it’s the end of a party. Most people are still here, but one or two people have left and one by one it’s all just dropping off a cliff. I don’t know why. No, please don’t look at me while I’m crying.”
“Huh. Maybe it’s the clouds and the rain,” Paula said, sounding supremely uninterested. “Seasonal depression?”
“Maybe,” Golbez sniffed. “Could I...could I get a hug?”
Jack heard Paula pause.
“You know if you try anything I’ll break your shins.”
“Oh good heavens, lassie, you’re thinking of that now?”
“I just need to know that you know.”
“Yes, yes, I know. Though getting my shins broken by you might be worth it...”
“Okay, no hug.”
“I was joking, joking!”
“Then you’re in good spirits already and there’s no need for a hug after all.”
“No, no! I’m in terrible spirits! Terrible! Have pity on a poor old man, in the twilight of his phase.”
“What does that mean?”
            “It means...it means that this is the reason I’ve called this unofficial staff meeting. I have plans, Paula. I’m thinking of uprooting and settling down in Europe somewhere. A beautiful countryside with butterflies and romance. And I’d like you to come with me.”
“With you?”
“With us.”
“Why.”
“This island---”
“Isle,” Paula corrected. Hm?
“---has been my life’s work. And it’s been a glorious run. But there’s no place for me here anymore. I fear that Butterknife Bay will soon look like this place, and all the other failed facilities. Desolate. Miserable. Alone.”
“But why would that happen?”
            “I don’t know! Well, no, I know some of it. My treasure was found, you see. The one I inherited from my father.”
“Do you know how or who?”
“I have my suspicions, but---”
“Because I can tell you who. That was my secret mission. I heard what happened to you in getting into that coma and figured it out immediately. Then I tracked down who did it. And the same person who poisoned you is also the one who threatens our gold.”
I decided to raise up my head and take a peek through some pans. Yeah, it’s me again. Shh. The gods went to get a sandwich, I think. Don’t let them know.
Golbez, the bulbous man covered in a tarp of a pink-and-blue Hawaiian shirt, looked excited and even jumped up and down on his feet. “Who? Who who who?”
“Who else? Vanasmas. And the Johnsons. They might be coming for it right now. You have to forget about your troubles and act. Act like a man!”
Golbez groaned, sighed, and said, “Old age! Why must these things happen to me, a poor old man in the twilight of his phase? This just confirms all my fears. Including the one that I’m no longer capable of defending my fortress from invaders. This is a young man’s island. No place for me anymore. I want to take my boss staff, Blake and North and the bad doctor and Jackie. And you, of course. I’ll no longer have my advisor to make me feel good about myself, and I won’t have my army to destroy anything that might offend me, and I won’t have a wealth of gold coins and statues to admire and polish, and I won’t have a business I built with my own two hands and the backs of a tribe-full of captured native slaves, but...at least I’ll have you. Right, sugarbutt?”
            Paula said nothing, but blushed.
            Blushed.
            Damb it, that wasn’t Paula at all! It was Annie!

1 comment:

  1. Ah, the nostalgia. Way to include the "choose your own adventure" books into this. Really clever and enjoyable. I liked how all the options still play a role in the story to come so they all mattered. Good idea to have the gods tell us to read every choice. Plus we get more of a feel for Jack and how tired he is getting. Golbez, as usual, is great. Loved the last bit about him building his empire with his hands and on the backs of slaves. Hilarious. Good, subtle hints at it being Annie before the reveal. And nice Doctor Who reference, not to mention the mine cart ride (Indiana Jones ride?). All in all, loving the direction this is taking us and how it is building toward the conclusion.

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