Fool's Beginning, Fool's End (At The End, Everything is Okay: The 0th Story)

Section 6

"So," Sam said, flatly, between sips of some particularly stale-tasting hot chocolate, "You aren't with SavCo."

"No. We're not." The voice replied, this time very much corporeal, "We've been over this several times now. Don't make me repeat myself."

Deep within the valley, still in the growing light of dawn, a drawn carriage – more like a small wagon, really - pulled away from the entrance to the bunker.

At the font of the carriage was a gigantic, hairless cat-thing, roughly the size of a lion or tiger. Covered in straps, he pulled the wagon along the gravel trails with his impressive strength. Equally impressive was his voice. A low sort of grumble that he used mainly for complaining.

"We were hired by a SavCo lawyer to retrieve you," He said, "Has that gotten through your skull yet?"

Sam, who was sitting at the rear of the wagon, his lower half covered by blankets, nervously sipped away at the hot chocolate. He pretended to not hear the cat-thing talk to him.

"I know you heard me." The cat said directly in Sam's ear, despite being several feet away.

Sam covered his ears.

"N-Nil," He pleaded, "What's with the voice?"

"Oh, that's just Nack." Nil responded.

She sat at the font of the wagon, reins in hand. She wasn't doing all that much with them, though. She liked giving off the impression that she had an important job, rather than actually having one.

"He's just a sourpuss," Nil explained, "Don't worry about him."

"I wouldn't have to be such a bother if you humans just learned a few manners." Nack grumbled.

"Oh... kay." Sam sighed, and fell silent.

From the back of the wagon, he took in the surroundings with an overwhelming sense of uncanniness; A sense of both familiarity and unfamiliarity.

The last time Sam had set foot on the surface – in this very valley – the buildings had not crumbled yet. Nature had not reclaimed what was originally theirs. Back then, there lay no gravel trails, trees were cut to lay pavement, and concrete was spread as far as the eye could see.

Only the faint memory of what once was remained.

Sam did not know this valley as just some place; He knew it as home. The small town of Gretchen Valley, located in the middle of nowhere, on the east side of Oregon.

Once described in a travel guide as "quintessential small-town America", and also once described in an online review as "impossibly boring", Gretchen Valley was a small town like any other. The locals all knew each other by name, there existed no more than fifteen streets, and small businesses were being driven out by corporations.

As the wagon bounced and swayed over the gravel, Sam recognized the path they were on. It was Main Street.

Only a few buildings remained standing. The town hall, a mom n' pop shoe store, the post office, seemingly all reduced to the architecture equivalent of a tree stump, and then reclaimed by nature. Vines ran through cracks in brick, shrubbery blossomed out of what were formerly storefronts, and trees bravely stood tall atop the small handful of structures that still had roofs.

Sam remembered the Mega Sav-Mart that had opened about a year ago – a year prior to getting put in the tube, that is – and how the locals worried about losing business. He remembered how the town organized a summer fair, to make up for the losses. He remembered smelling burgers on the grill from down the street.