The Great Subway Adventure!

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Introduction

The following is a Choose Your Own Adventure story written by the participants of the Badgerdog Summer Camp’s Interactive Fiction Workshop (Session B). This story was written collaboratively by Aanya Palan, Boone Elliott, Elizabeth Alpatova, Elsa Hung, Evan Kim, Max Mariani, Ninaad Arjun, and Peter Worrall.

At the end of Part One, click on the link to follow your story! (Note: You will be redirected to a Google Doc full of more choices and adventure.)

 

The Great Subway Adventure: Part One

It had just stopped raining (like an hour ago), and the sun had made its way back out from the clouds. You feel the steam coming up from the pavement, and off the grass and trees of the Capitol. The air itself is heavy and sticking to your skin. You feel the sweat rising up to meet it. It’s almost like swimming, you think, but not as fun. You wish you could go swimming—but the cast on your wrist. That makes it harder. 

You had to break your wrist in the summer. 

Good news, your mom had told you, you’ll be able to get the cast off just in time for school!

“Great!” you had said. And, …Great, you had thought as well, but with a different tone, your mom wouldn’t have been so pleased with. 

It was going to be a long summer. 

Your mom asks you to hold the handle of the stroller while she takes a picture of a particularly shiny grackle. 

Your mom ruffles her hand through your moppy hair. 

“Someone needs a haircut,” she smiles as she takes the stroller back, your baby sister giggles and bubbles spit from inside. 

“Hungry? Let’s get some lunch!”

You are hungry. And quietly excited. You’re at the Capitol building—which, as luck would have it, is very close to your favorite place for lunch. 

Subways!

And not just any Subways, the one two blocks down from the Capitol on Congress. 

They make the best meatball subs, and cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches, and ham sandwiches and even one time this cool kudzu sandwich! … and things that aren’t sandwiches, too! Like soups! And cookies! And chips… and you could talk about Subway forever if someone let you….

“How about that burrito place?”

Oh no!

“Or the noodle place?”

Oh no! 

“I know where you want to go.”

Your mom smiles, and you two walk, pushing the stroller toward Subways. 

***

You, your mom, and your baby sister enter your favorite Subways Sandwich restaurant. 

It smells like baking bread and turkey. The air is cool and dry after the hot humid outside. You feel almost cold, but in a good way—the sweat drying off your shirt and forehead. 

You look at the wall with the photos of the employee of the months—and as always—one picture is repeated again and again Timmy Bob James your favorite Sandwich Artist. Timmy Bob James has been working here forever.  Timmy Bob James knows exactly the right amounts of lettuce and honey mustard to put on your sandwich. Timmy Bob James never skips on the pickles either. 

And there is Timmy Bob James behind the counter, in his stiff Subway shirt, apron, and chefs hat. 

“Well, we haven’t seen you for a minute! You want your usual order?” Timmy Bob James asks your mom. 

“How have you been?’ asks your mom, “Is your mom still doing good?”

“She’s doing great,” he replies. 

But at that moment, something weird happens…

The glass front door opens and slams shut! The lights go real weird and blue — and then a tile in the ceiling you never noticed before pops open like a door.

And out drops something that looks like a very real bomb! But not like real-real, like one out of an old cartoon or video game. Round and black with a wiggly burning fuse. 

Timmy Bob James yells, “Get down!” and you do.

There is a loud bang, and the room fills with weird green smoke. And the smell of bread and turkey turns funkier…

Like straw and musk and…

It smells more like the zoo than your favorite sandwich restaurant. 

The foggy smoke clears a little, and you look around.

The room is full of eggs. Like a lot of eggs. Eggs of every color and size. But not like easter eggs. Not painted. Just lots. And different.

And—

Beyond the eggs—you are alone.

Where did your mom and sister go?

Where is your favorite Sandwich Artist?

You notice the trap door on the ceiling again, it would be just big enough to crawl through—and reach if you stood on one of the tall backed stools by the wall. 

Also though,

The door to the “Employees Only” area is cracked open too. 

You think you should probably go through one of those doors. 

You pull over the stool to climb up through the trap door.

You go through the door to the Employees Only Area. 

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