The turnstiles lead back outside.
Inky blackness. And now you know there's a dead rat over there too.
It might never arrive.
You punch straight through the rat's guts and find yourself back in the tunnel, fairly unharmed!
You still can't see anything but the station.
Familiar. Bright. Empty.
Gross. Glad that whole thing didn't pose much of a problem.
This rat was less friendly than it seemed. Also much larger. It swallows you whole and now you're swimming in its guts.
From the inside, this rat doesn't look all that dangerous.
In fact, its skin looks pretty thin.
You offer the rat some of your food. It sinks its teeth into the aluminum with shocking ease and skitters away into the train station. Alone on the street again.
It's a little darker out than it was when you entered the train station. How long has it been?
It's a little darker out than it was when you entered the train station. How long has it been? The rat guts on your clothes start drying as you look around.
The entrance to the station continues to descend beside you.
There is an enormous rat here. It's looking at you.
You feel a vague sense of dread when you look this way. Some thought idles in your memory, and while you can't identify it, you know what it is telling you.
You feel a specific sense of dread when you look this way. This is where you came from.
The rat is huge--almost as big as you, and you're pretty big. It looks hungry and the way it eyes you is a little worrisome.
At least, you think you're pretty big. There's been no one around for comparison for a very long time.
There was a fire—that much is obvious even without wracking your brain. You remember a time before the fire, and you remember the fire starting, and…
You remember voices. You barely remember what "voices" means, but there were voices. They were people you knew, trying to help you understand what was happening, trying to keep you safe.
The distance back looks farther than you walked to get here. How could that be?
You try to punch the rat, but it's quicker than it looks. It bites your hand clean off. In another few bites, all your limbs are gone. The rat finishes you off more slowly.
You vaguely remember seeing another face some time ago. How long has it been? Years?
You left the door open. Why would you close it? Who will stop you?
You start heading back in the direction you came from, so long ago, before you were waiting for the train. This all seems so familiar again. How did you forget?
You take off in a sprint, passing empty craters and blackened husks that used to be trees. You run so far and so fast that things start looking unfamiliar again, but in a different way—even before, long ago, these things were unfamiliar. You never went this far.
You turn back, walking slowly, out of breath.
One of these craters used to be your home.
You remember the voices again