62 62 62. Triple number for the sim that’d basically the same as this forest. Lone one, unlike the two she discovered in Bandanaboro (77/77/77 and 88/88/88). Unusual to have more that one per sim, she understood. And what’s that over there? Small grey structure, perhaps cement — a bunker? She listens for any sounds coming from that direction. A full half minute. Only crickets all around her and a single crow cawing somewhere in the trees above. A warning?
Then: footsteps behind her! “Oh God what’s *that*,” she couldn’t help but say aloud despite trying to be as quiet as possible here. Suddenly the bunker or whatever she saw in the distance didn’t seem so forbidding. She hurried to its open door and went inside to get away from the open woods.
At least there’s no one “sitting* over there, she thinks. Nor a skeleton or a decomposing body or anything like that. But those footsteps. What was that??
Spotting nothing following her, she decides it would be best to hunker down here for the night, leave first thing in the morning, set up some kind of barricade at this opening if possible. She’s *not* going to teleport out of this sim and back to safety in the arms of her handsome, broad Eddy. She’s going to see this solo mission through. She can hang on to her wits.
Yes, she’ll sit down in front of this old computer, see if she can get it powered up and take a look at its files. That’ll keep her mind occupied while she waits for daylight. Maybe drink some of this Russian vodka on the floor someone left behind, ho. Is this a listening station by chance? Wouldn’t that be the oddest?
