No-Clipped

Chapter 8: Camp Amber (1/3)

      Level 11, or the 'Concrete Jungle' as the Radical Radio Team had explained to me, was a very safe level much like level 1 but with many more outposts and residents since there are actual buildings you can live in. There aren't many entities, or monsters, but the ones there are act completely harmless.
    One of the many groups that call level 11 home is Camp Amber, each individual Camp Amber group made up of at least 7 members which make outposts in different areas and buildings around the city.
We walked down a long, long sidewalk with buildings and street lights lining either side, Maxwell leading the way playing an alternative rock song on a radio he wore strapped on his upper back as all of us walked closely behind.

     "Any building can pretty much take you to any level." Nathaniel explained. "Although most who no-clip into the Concrete Jungle choose not to take that risk and to stay here."

"Yeah, yeah." I interrupted. "Level 11–big city—lots of people. I have more important questions I want answers to."

     "Such as..?" Andrew asked.

     "What's with the stupid outfits and stupid name? Are you not caught up with modern society? Are you like supposed to be thirty something years old but don't age in the Backrooms? How does time work anyways?"

     "You mean the 80s-90s theme?" He replied. "Nah. We're all the same age as you and we definitely age here. Not sure how time works exactly, but I guess we just go with this theme because it makes us...popular. Again, there are a lot of people who live here. But when they see a group of teenagers wearing 80s clothing we're easily recognizable...and it makes us unique!"

     "Makes sense." I shrugged. "So uh-other than Camp Amber, what other groups and outposts or whatever live here?"

"Can you stop asking questions?! We're miles away and all you're talking is making everything slower and more agonizing." Hunter snapped. Tyler then rolled his eyes.

"Relax. He's a newcomer. If you were him you'd have questions too." Tyler smiled at me. Tyler explained everything to me in a matter of minutes.

—The Eyes of Argos: a base which you can stay and trade...unless you have sinned? What?
—Insurrection Station 07: a base of around 800 people and welcome only to people who aren't on good terms with some chick named Meg? Level 11 makes no sense.
—Drone Surveillance Squad: a group of 14 members who use drones to record found footage and evidence of other levels.
—Homely Hotel: a running hotel service in one of the many many Concrete Jungle buildings! Sweet!
There were several more and they said a lot about that Meg lady...but as many more questions as I had I decided to save them for Camp Amber (and to avoid getting snapped at by Hunter).

"We're here." Maxwell said as we approached a building an hour later. He reached behind him and clicked off his radio, a tall woman with dark brown skin and poofy hair stepping out of the building beside us.

"WHO IS IT?" Yelled a man's voice from inside.

"THE RADICAL RADIO TEAM." The woman screamed back, clearing her throat and giving each member a fist bump. She stopped at me, giving me a good look up and down.

"...Brought in a new wanderer, eh? It's not too often a child winds up in here."

"I'M SEVENTEEN!"

"Sure. Why don't ya come on inside?" The woman gestured her hand through the door. Maxwell took a step back and shook his head.

"Nah, we gotta get going. Good luck with him. He's VERY talkative."

"It's all good! I could use the extra chatter anyways...it's been real quiet without Michelle lately." She sighed. "See ya."

After the Radical Radio Team boys walked off with their music the woman and I stepped inside the building, which had a surprisingly welcoming interior with light grey walls and floors, a small kitchen, and a six foot long sofa. We then introduced ourselves. Aside from me there were seven Camp Amber members total.
The poofy haired woman, Heather.
Jude—a quiet elderly man, maybe in his late 60s to mid 70s, with a receding hairline and a mysterious scar across his eye which blended in with his wrinkles.
Owen—a tall, obese man with greasy black hair that was slick back and a bright and joyful expression.
Alan—a short middle aged man, maybe an inch taller than me, with a choppy beard and dirty blonde hair.
Tristan—a muscular man, the same height as Heather, with a bald head and a black leather jacket.
Reaper—a tall man with a slender build, tons of piercings on his eyes, eyebrows, lips, ect. and a Mohawk with fire engine red streaks...
and a small 7 year old girl with long hair so blonde it was almost white, small dimples, and pale blue eyes, Marilyn. She hid behind Reaper, peeking at me from the side of his arm which she held tightly on to.

"So welcome to our outpost, I guess!" Owen said with a grin. "Go on and make yourself at home...and feel free to ask as many questions as you wish. That's what we're here for!"

I removed my backpack and placed it on the ground, flopping down on the couch. I unzipped it and rummaged through, pulling out Panda and laying my head down on top of it. Marilyn sat down at the end of the couch, her head turned towards me. I awkwardly smiled at her, soon realizing she was staring at Panda. Not me.

"Oh-! Hey there, kiddo." I sat up and placed Panda on my lap.

"Ah- Marilyn ain't much of a talker. Reaper said, scooping her up. She sat on his shoulder, holding Reapers hands. She whispered something in his ear, pointing at Panda.

Reaper chuckled. "She likes your teddy bear."

"Oh!" I looked Marilyn in the eyes and smiled. She turned her head away. I sat for a few seconds to think of something to say. "Do you want to play with him?" Marilyn turned back to me and nodded, reaching her arms out as I walked towards her and handed her Panda. She beamed.

"Thank you." She whispered, hugging Panda tightly and pressing her face against him.

"AAAAWWWHHH!!" Went the other five, standing in the back of the room.

"She hasn't been able to play with toys in a while. Appreciate it, man. We'll make sure she gives it back to you soon." Alan said, holding his palm up to his heart. I yawned and nodded.

"My guy, you seem a bit tired. How much sleep have you gotten?" Tristan asked.

"I've been wandering in the Backrooms for about four days and have only slept once...that one sleep not very pleasant. I keep ending up in odd levels."

"...Pinhead?" All except Marilyn said in sync. I nodded.

"Ah, don't worry about it. We sleep in shifts, and we can tell whether he makes an appearance in someone's dreams as their asleep by their body movements, so we just wake em' up whenever we need to." Heather said. "You're eyebags are pretty heavy. I think it's YOUR turn for now."

"Sounds fair. Thank you. But uh—who's Meg? The Radio Team mentioned something about a woman named Meg a few times."

Reaper scoffed. "M.E.G is an acronym. Major Explorer Group. There are quite a few M.E.G bases each located on different levels, the fourth being here in level 11 and the first being in level 1. They're a huge influential organization of people who research and study different levels, entities, search for exits, ect. Any more questions?"

"Nope, that's just about it." I walked over to the couch and picked up my backpack, the Royal Rations catching my eye. I had an urge to ask about it but thought about what had happened with Dave and Sarah and all the other BNTG people, quickly zipping up my backpack. I lay down on my back and shut my eyes, immediately drifting off...