20191023

Day 1,873

He woke up with a map embedded into his arm like the imprint of clothing pressed too tightly to skin.  He checked the rest of his body to see if there were any other maps or markings and got nothing more than a vague sense of unease.

It felt like it was somewhere nearby at least, though he couldn't say how he knew or exactly where it was.The deep red marks were somehow familiar enough to draw him to the library, namely the local history section that was rumoured to hold maps of the old war tunnels and bunkers. Maps he found accidentally while searching for an overlay of the area, hoping to match the features of his map to somewhere, anywhere nearby.

He spent as much time as the librarians would allow, pouring over diagrams older than his family line and praying he'd find the source. And he did, after nine days of dusty parchment and cracked pages he saw a name that made his heart jolt and he knew he'd found his answer.

A bunker down by West Fallowbridge that had never been officially used in the war nor shut down and the material repurposed afterwards. For all anyone knew it was in as much use as it had been over seventy years ago.

He had to go there.

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