The first thing which pierces the darkness is a shrill screeching noise. Incessant and grating its sheer persistence is what brings you round to wakefulness. Sore eyes open to what initially appears to be pitch darkness punctuated by one shaft of bright light pointing away from you and cutting through the gloom.

As the fog begins to clear you realize you are lying sideways, raised in the air and suspended from falling in some kind of a harness. It then dawns on you that it's a seatbelt and as your eyes become accustomed to the dark you can see that you are in a vehicle which appears to be lying on it's side. Pieces of glass in your clothes and a cool breeze against your skin suggest the windows are broken. The one shaft of light in front of you is coming from a lonely headlight, the other must be either broken or buried in something.

Casting a look around you the vehicle appears to be a van of some kind with three seats in the front and several more in the back with what look like several boxes or crates of some kind which have now been thrown around the inside of the rear compartment. In addition to you there are four other occupants, all of whom seem to be coming to at the same time. The endless screeching is coming from the horn which the driver was slumped over but it cuts out as the driver stirs into wakefulness.

As you start to work out your situation a horrible truth starts to settle in. You don't know where you are. In fact, you don't know why you're there and then you realize you don't know who you are. The others in the van are also strangers though you do feel an odd sense of familiarity about something in this situation.

There isn't a huge amount you can do from your current suspended position but you are able to make a quick survey of your own injuries.






OOC: It doesn't really matter who is where in the vehicle so feel free to assign seating as you post. Someone has to be the driver but other than that it's just flavour.

Also while you wake up not knowing who you are you all have wallets, purses etc. on you which appear untouched and so have drivers licenses, credit cards etc. to at least give you a name and some basic details if nothing else whether you look straight away or in a bit.

"What the hell!" Mike exclaims from his position suspended above one of the rear passenger seats.  "I think my nose is broken!"

Mike pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and tries to staunch the flow of blood.  "Where's the damn seatbelt?"  He fumbles with his other hand to release the belt.

"Is everyone else okay?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:35, Fri 05 Mar 2021.

Location: Unknown, Status:Unknown
"People are supposed to fear the unknown, but ignorance is bliss when knowledge is so damn frightening.” - Laurell K. Hamilton, The Laughing Corpse

Jason 'comes around' and tries to move, he screams in pain,  "Ahhhhhhh!!!" He stops moving quickly and tries to figure out where he is at.
He hears a voice and responds, "Whose there? Where are you?"

Thomas wakes up and looks around to take in his surroundings, feeling the pain in his head, Thomas attempts to stop the flow of blood.  Reaching into his suit pocket, Thomas takes out his handkerchief.  Noticing that he is sitting in the drivers seat, Thomas attempts to figure out what happened.  "Hello back there, is anyone else in this vehicle?  I'm not sure who I am nor how I got here, but if there is anyone else here speak up."  Waiting for a reply Thomas attempts to remove himself from the vehicle.

The dark haired woman blinked.

Once.

Twice.

And immediately regretted it as she felt a wave of pain erupt in her skull, almost as though someone was pounding on it with some sort of hammer. She closed her eyes, tried to give it a moment to subside. Around her she could hear voices. Different voices. Men’s voices.

What the Hell was going on?

Where was she? She was suddenly aware of something digging into her. And a throbbing pain in one finger.

She risked blinking again. This time her head didn’t scream out in protest. Or at least not so much protest.

That was the point where she realised that not only did she not know where she was but she couldn’t remember anything else. Like anything at all. Not where she was. Not how she got here. Not who else was here. Wherever here was. But she felt like maybe she should know them. She wasn’t sure.

Because right now she couldn’t even remember her own name.

A wave of panic suddenly washed over her. She could feel a knot of tension in her stomach as she started to process where she was, realized that she didn’t appear to be too badly hurt. Apart from the headache and the pain in her finger. And she was in a van of some sort. On her side. She could feel a seatbelt cutting into her, began to fumble around for the release button, trying to find it in the dark. She can hear someone screaming, someone else saying that his nose is broken. Another voice coming from the driver’s seat. ”Where are we?” She said. ”What just happened?”

A thought then flashed through her mind. What if it catches fire? ”We need to get out of here! NOW!” Her voice was becoming more anxious as she redoubled her efforts to find the seatbelt release.

The seatbelts prove difficult to undo, straining as they are against weight bearing down on them and most having locked into place presumably as a result of whatever happened to land you in this situation.

Once released from the belts the easiest route of egress from the van proves to be through the  left hand doors, now pointing roughly upwards. The front door is jammed shut but the broken window can be easily enough squeezed through. The panel door at the back is more operational and slides roughly backwards allowing those using that method to then slide ungainly on to the ground outside.

Outside the vehicle you find yourselves in a ditch on the side of a long, straight road running as far as you can see in either direction. The van lies on it's side in the ditch, scrapped and battered like it's been in an accident. It is an otherwise unremarkable white van with no particular markings.

Now you are in the cool evening air you see it isn't as dark as you thought. The sun has set but there's still enough light to see by though that light is fading fast. On either side of the road are cornfields, with the occasional patch of woodland, as far as you can see though in the direction the van is facing you can see the lights of a building perhaps a mile down the road.

Mike clambers awkwardly out of the van, turning back to help anyone still in it.  Once everyone is out he looks at everyone, hoping for some hint of recognition.  He stuffs his bloody handkerchief back into his pocket and feels a wallet.  Pulling it out he peers at the driver's license in the light of the headlights.

"Either I'm Mike," he says, "or I stole his wallet."  He puts the license back into the wallet and the wallet back into his pocket.

"Please tell me one of you remembers who I am!"

”I can’t remember anything!” The woman said to the guy who had called himself ‘Mike.’ after she’d extracted herself from the crashed van. There was an edge to her tone. Not remembering anything - including her own name - was freaking her out. She didn’t know Mike, didn’t know how she’d ended up travelling with him. Didn’t know how they’d crashed.

Maybe he had the right idea though. Using her uninjured hand, she reached into her pockets of the pant suit that she was wearing, fished around to see what they contained, her fingers clutching a driver’s license when they emerged from her jacket pocket. Mimicking Mike, she walked around the van, idly noticing that she was wearing high heeled shoes as she held the license under the light.

”I’m Alison. Alison Voss.” She announced, reading the name on the license before returning it to her pocket before looking over at her unfamiliar companions. ”So, Alison and Mike. What about everyone else? And does anyone remember what just happened here?”

Location: Unknown, Status:In severe pain, left side ribs
"Driving is a spectacular form of amnesia. Everything is to be discovered, everything to be obliterated." - Jean Baudrillard

Jason fumbles with, then 'attacks' the lapbelt. It gives way and Jason hits bottom, then with the searing pain in his side, he really hits bottom and fades out.  He hears someone saying get out and he contorts to get out of whatever he is in.

He staggers to his feet and holds his side.  Jason sees several people milling around,  " What the hell is going on?  Don't you know who you are?""  He then tries to remember how he got here and then, who the hell is HE?

He checks for his wallet, it's there and he looks at his drivers license," I'm Jason Henry, anyone know me?""

Upon exiting the vehicle you assess each other. None of you are immediately familiar to each other but you do immediately notice something else - all of you are filthy. To varying degrees you are caked in dirt with mud and grime on your clothes, in your hair and on your faces. It doesn't look like the filth came from inside the van so, presumably, happened before the crash.




OOC: Anyone checking their pockets has everything they would expect to find in their characters pockets (even if your character wouldn't expect to find it, if that makes sense). So phones, keys etc. are all present. Any phone checked is out of reception - not surprising as you appear to be in the middle of nowhere - but working albeit with some minor damage.

"What the hell have we been doing?" Mike wonders aloud, not expecting an answer.  "Treasure hunting?"

He finishes going through his pockets, and holds up a key dangling from a blue plastic diamond.  "Looks like I was staying at a motel in Michigan."

Mike looks around, finally settling on the building up the road.

"Maybe there?"

Alison was too preoccupied with looking at her cellphone to hear Mike’s question, far less offer any sort of answer, even if he wasn’t looking at one. Not that the phone was doing her much good, given that it was asking her for a passcode and she had no idea what to put in. ”I’m calling nine one one.” She announced, pressing the button for emergency calls that would bypass the passcode, only to hear the sound indicating she had no network.

”No signal.” The dark haired woman muttered, stuffing the phone back into the pocket of her pant suit, where she felt it bump against something else.  ”A Motel?” She asked, as she drew out a similarly sized diamond to the one that Mike was holding, saw that hers also had a key attached to it, with the number six on it. She looked over at Mike again, wondered, briefly. Were they? ”What room?” she said, not waiting for an answer as her eyes turned towards the building that he had indicated as she answered his question. ”I don’t see anywhere else nearby. And we can’t stay here all night.”

"Room 4," Mike replies.  He nods at her last statement.

"It's only going to get later," he says, "and I'd rather spend the night indoors."

Mike starts walking up the road toward the building.

"Be nice if one of us had a vacation itinerary," he says.  "I'd hate to miss our reservations for the biggest ball of twine, or whatever other attraction might be out in the middle of nowhere."

Location: Unknown, Status: In severe pain, left side ribs
"Be Brave and Take Risks: You need to have faith in yourself. Be brave and take risks. You don't have to have it all figured out to move forward.”
- Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart

Jason checks his pockets and finds something in one of them, takes it out and reads it. "Hummm... The Coach & Lantern Motel, 12705 W. Vienna St, Clio, MI on one side and #3 on the other!" He slowly follows Mike towards the building.

Thomas drags himself out of the van and joins the others standing just outside of it.  Reaching into his pocket like the other in his group Thomas pulls out a cell phone, wallet and a set of keys.  Thomas opens the wallet and piers inside, "Well according to this my name is Thomas Daniels.  Nice to meet the rest of you.  Also my key is for room 13, what a lucky number."

Following the others toward the building

Any mobile phones may be useless due to a lack of service but they do tell you something; it's coming up to 9.00pm and it's September 17th. Not that either of those facts is hugely useful for you right now.

With little else to do you start the walk towards the lights in the distance. In the half hour it takes your battered bodies to walk the mile and a half down the road not a single vehicle passes you. What you do get, as the light fades, is the start of a cold September drizzle - not quite raindrops but still enough to soak you to your skin.

The building, when you arrive, is an old farmhouse which looks like it has been in this spot for decades. One lonely exterior light shows peeling paintwork on the front of the building and a battered mailbox reading 'Baker' at the bottom of the drive. The area around the house is littered with a variety of farm machinery in varying states of disrepair. Two lights are on inside; one downstairs and one up.

Just as you start to head down the drive to the building the night air is cut through by a shocked scream from within!

Mike starts running for the front door of the farmhouse before he's even clearly thought things through, surprising himself.  He keeps going, though, worried about who might be in trouble.

Location: Baker Farmhouse, Status: In severe pain, left side ribs
"A good many dramatic situations begin with screaming." - Jane Fonda

Jason holds his left side as he does his best to keep up with Mike.

Hearing the scream Thomas follows Mike and Jason toward the front door.

It was probably the drizzling rain that made the walk feel longer than it actually was. Or maybe it was the pain in her injured finger, which had morphed into a constant throb. Or the fact that she was wearing heels. Probably a combination of all of the above, exacerbated by the fact that they’d just been in an auto crash. Which seemed like particularly bad luck given that there didn’t appear to be another car on the entire damn road. It made Alison wonder just how the hell they had managed to end up in a ditch.

Maybe the farmhouse will toss up some answers. Maybe. Although a look at the machinery on the lawn isn’t exactly reassuring. The place was kind of creeping Alison out a bit. And that was before the scream comes from inside.

The dark haired young woman watches as he male companions all go rushing towards the sound at various levels of speed. Very noble. But it kind of leaves her feeling a bit nervous when she’s suddenly standing outside by herself. Deciding that she’d rather not wait around outside on her own, she follows the three of them in, though more slowly.

You all reach the front door without incident, Alison following behind the three men who take a more gung-ho approach.

The front door itself appears to be in slightly better repair than most of the exterior of the house, a solid wood affair with a small window set in it at head height though blocked with a curtain on the inside. The two windows to either side of the front are dark and curtained (the downstairs lit window being around the side of the building). One simple electric push doorbell sits to the side of the door.

Listening closely you can hear, over the patter of rain on the various detritus in the front yard, low sounds from within. Low voices and possibly some quiet music...

Getting to the door, Mike stops himself from just rushing into a stranger's house.  Who knows what that scream meant?  Instead he pounds on the door.

"Hey in there," he yells, "open up, quick!"

Then he shakes his head, clearly rethinking the whole approach, but too late to take it back.

He came round probably later than the others, so the young man dropped into the conversation. He crawled on four limbs, like an animal, then painfully raised himself to a kneeling position. After doubling down suddenly a few times and retching noises, he managed to speak a few words.

"I'm coming, too." It sounded more like rusted metal grating on rusted metal, though.

Catching up with the others, he stayed back and studied them a little. "Who the hell these people are? Think, moron!" - then, realizing he didn't even know his own name, he checked his pockets and found the ID. "Kyle. Meh. Sounds familiar, but how could I be sure?"

"Khrrrr. Oh, that hurts." he exclaimed, touching his throat.

Mike's hammering on the door elicits a response pretty quickly. Within a few moments a light flares to life on the inside of the door and mere seconds after that the curtain is pulled back slightly to reveal the heavily bearded face of a man who looks slightly surprised to find several dirt strewn people standing on his doorstep.

Without opening the door he glances down and to his right for a second before looking back up at you again and gruffly saying,
"What's with all this noise? And who on earth are you?"

Mike backs up slightly, surprised to have the door actually answered.  He stammers a bit, then blurts out.  "Car crash," he gestures down the road.  "We're injured."

Thomas stops just shy of the front porch not wanting to crowd Mike in his rush to push the doorbell.  Thomas is surprised when the ring is answered so quickly and takes an involuntary step back just as Mike tells the man about our recent development.

The door swings open to reveal the body of the man who was speaking to you. He's a large man in his late 30s wearing a stained flannel shirt and worn jeans. With the door open you can hear the sounds from within more clearly and it sounds like a television running in a room deeper into the house.

He takes another look at you and nods slowly, "Looks like it was a bad one from the state of you. Wouldn't be the first crash on that road though it's normally kids driving way too fast. You had better come in and we can call a tow truck."

He steps aside and holds the door open to allow you entry. As he does so you can see that by his side, propped up against the side of the doorframe, is a shotgun...

Location: Baker Farmhouse, Status: In severe pain, left side ribs
"I was always shocked when I went to the doctor's office and they did my X-ray and didn't find that I had eight more ribs than I should have or that my blood was the color green." Nicolas Cage

Jason in a low voice asks, "Can you get me a doctor first? I think I've got a busted rib or two."

Mike nods.

"Yeah, a doctor would be a good idea," he says.  He'll enter the house as invited and look around to figure out where to sit himself.

He'll also be looking to see if he sees anyone who might have been the source of that scream.

"Didn't that scream come from in there?" Kyle looks around at his 'mates', watching for signs of alarm, but nothing particular strikes him. "Well, in the state I am in, no wonder I hear things."

He steps closer to Jason, and gently nudges him on the left arm, without causing pain and possibly more injury to his side. He fishes out a key, with an attached plastic square. One side shows the same motel name as Jason's, while the other is No.7.

"What's the deal here? You remember this hotel we both come from currently?"

As you file in to the farmhouse the man watches you enter with a somewhat quizzical expression. You enter in to a short hallway and are then ushered towards a lit room at the back which turns out to be a sitting room in which a homely woman, probably a similar age to the man, and a teenage girl are sat on a sofa watching what appears to be a horror movie on a large television at one side of the room. Another small sofa and a couple of arm chairs fill out the room around a worn coffee table.

The woman looks up at you with a surprised expression and as the man walks in behind you he nods at the television, "Anne, turn that garbage off would you?". She obliges, flicking the set off with a remote control to his side. "These folks have had a crash and need a tow truck" and adds at Jason's request "and a doctor."

The woman immediately gets up and starts fussing, clearly used to taking care of people. She sits Jason down, as apparently the worst injured, and fetches ice and a towel though how much assistance they may be for a broken rib might be questionable. She talks to you all as she does so, Oh dear, this looks nasty. You must have come off the road at quite a pace? Was it a deer? We get them round here sometimes and they can just come out of nowhere..." The girl looks slightly put out by the interruption and simply pulls her legs up beneath her and starts to fiddle with her cellphone.

Meanwhile the man leaves the room and you can hear him on the telephone. He returns a few minutes later and announces, "There's an ambulance on the way, it can take you in to the care centre in town and they should be able to patch you up there. I've called Dave too, he should be here with a tow truck in a bit. Where were you headed? Dave can get you in to Clio if that's where you are?"

"We're staying at the Coach & Lantern," Mike says, recalling the name of the town from the keychain.  He looks around, uncomfortable.  He wanted to ask what sorts of things there were to do in town, to try to understand why they were there, but if they'd already been staying at the hotel that question might sound odd.

"Ah, a horror movie. I'm relieved." Kyle remarks quietly.

When the man finishes his announcement about the ambulance, he asks him "And ... what town are we talking about, please?"

The couple look somewhat surprised but cover it reasonably well, "It's Clio, Michigan. We're just outside the town limits here but it's just a few miles in to town."

The man chimes in, "The Coach and Lantern is the local motel. It's the far side of town from here but I'm sure Dave won't mind giving you a lift over that way, it's not a long way."

"We appreciate you calling the tow truck," Mike says.  "We're going to be in town a few days at least.  Are there any must see or must do attractions around here?"

Thomas listens to the description of the groups location.  Thinking to himself "What could I possibly be doing here?  And more importantly who are these people I'm driving in the van with?"

The question of what there is to do in the area generates a derisive snort from the teenager in the corner who gets herself a sharp look from her mother as a result. The lady, Anne, exchanges a quick look with her husband and then shakes her head, "There's not really any attractions hereabouts. It's a quiet kind of a place. There's Flint down the road, that gets all the looky-loos these days, but generally you either live here or you're just passing through."

Mike frowns, trying to dig up some memory of why they were all in town in the first place.  He'd been hoping for some obvious answer that a group would be here.  Maybe something back in the hotel rooms will give us a clue? he thinks.

19:15, Today: Mike Moore rolled 4 using 1d6.  Trying to remember, Insight die.

Mike's frown suddenly turns into a wide eyed look as something crosses his mind.

"A ruined house in a cornfield," Mike says suddenly.  Then he looks around, knowing he sounds like an idiot.  "We were there earlier," he explains, "but after the accident I can't remember where it was."

"Does that sound familiar?" he asks the family.

The couple exchange another glance and the woman shrugs at him before the man answers, "Well, there is the old Cooper farm - that sounds like what you're describing. Been abandoned since before I was I kid and it's the local 'haunted' house. Kids are dared to spend the night in there and the like. It's just a ways up the road. What would take a bunch of out-of-towners like you there though?"

His question is interrupted by the bark of a car horn outside. "That will be your ambulance. Ready to go? When Dave arrives I can send him out to your car and then let him know where to find you after."

"Thanks for your help," Mike says sincerely. "We really appreciate it."

He'll head out to the ambulance, working to remember about the old Cooper farm.  He wasn't sure if he wanted to investigate it or stay away, but either way they needed to know more.

Location: Baker Farmhouse, Status: In severe pain, left side ribs
"Speed does not always kill. And not only that, sometimes speed saves a life.”
- Mokokoma Mokhonoana

Jason, still in a low voice agrees, ""Thank you! Thank you so much!"
When the ambulance folks arrive, Jason explains his severe pain on his left side.

You all head out into the evening where a rather ramshackle looking ambulance is idling in the driveway crewed by two paramedics. They give you all a once over and when it's apparent none of the injuries need immediate attention they load you into the back, likely violating all sorts of occupancy limits, and set off to the medical centre.

As promised the drive into the town centre is only a few miles. Suddenly the rolling farmland and occasional wood is replaced by an urban sprawl - or at least as much of an urban sprawl as  you find in rural Michigan. Evenly spaced low rise buildings seem to make up most of the town and there is very little life on the streets despite the (comparatively, if you're used to city life) early hour.

The ambulance pulls in to a parking bay lit by a large neon sign which proclaims that you are at the 'Clio Medical Centre'. Disembarking from the ambulance you walk the short distance to a set of automatic double doors which slide open to allow you access to a waiting area, tiled neatly in white and lit with unforgiving strip lighting. Behind a small screened desk a man, probably in his early 20s, spins idly in an office chair in front of a computer. He looks up when you come in, suddenly interested, and beckons you forward, "Hello, how can we be of assistance this evening?"

"We've been in an accident," Mike says.  "Our van crashed somewhere out there, the details are pretty fuzzy."

"Some of the others are worse off than me," he gestures to the rest of the group.

Clearly it's a quiet night at the Clio Medical Centre as the receptionist ushers you straight through to the back room where you are introduced to a frustrated looking bald, bearded man in a lab coat which identifies him as "Doctor Cowie".

The Doctor casts a critical eye over you as the receptionist hands out a series of clipboards with cheap, standard issue forms attached. A quick glance over them suggests you might struggle, in your current state, with almost all of the fields to be filled...

The Doctor quickly identifies that Jason seems to be one of the most ailing and asks him to step in to a small curtained off room to one side, "I'll start with this gentleman given the way he's limping about and then get around to the rest of you. If you can complete the paperwork while you wait then we won't get shut down. Now," he turns to Jason, "what seems to be the matter?"

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 47):

Jason responds, ""I was in a car accident doc, my side hurts so very bad!  Can you help me?"

The doctor gives Jason a thorough examination, tutting slightly at various points. He swiftly diagnoses a cracked rib and carefully bandages it. He then completes a fairly routine inspection of Jason's other injuries and notes Jason recoiling and coughing heavily from the throat examination.


As he finishes up the doctor explains to Jason it's a cracked rib and a number of more minor scrapes and injuries. He hands over a bottle of mid-strength painkillers and provides some care instructions for the rib.

In turn he examines the rest of you (albeit in a more cursory fashion) but, barring a couple of stitches in the more significant cuts he signs you all off with cuts and scrapes which don't require medical attention.

Before you leave he then gathers up the clipboards...

OOC: Given the insurance forms require information you simply don't remember how do you want to play it? Make things up (it seems obvious it won't be carefully scrutinised for a while), be honest or something else?

Mike fills in what he can given the information he has in his wallet, and makes up something suitable for the rest of it.

"Well, folks," he says to the rest of the group once the doctor is gone, "back to the motel?  Might be something there to give us a clue."