The tunnels are dank and the smell vacillates between putrid and rank. The floor is so sticky the ripping sounds from your boots when you walk is deafening. Occasionally there is a side tunnel that has been bricked up or collapsed, rubble spilling out that you have to clamber over. The toupee and hat on your head are very hot and itchy but you don’t take them off. What if you lost the President’s hat or his hair?

“Kyle…” a voice calls, thin, almost a whisper. “Kyle…”

“Who’s there?” you demand, hand reaching for the Desert Eagle.

“Kyle…” the voice says again. You stand frozen for a full minute but the voice doesn’t speak again.

“Going crazy,” you say to yourself. “It’s nothing. Nothing.”

The next junction along is a clear tunnel, but a dark one, no lights even in the far distance. You wipe away the grime on the junction map, but it is completely unmarked. The President’s map indicates a left in crusty mustard stain.

“Kyle…” comes the voice again. It is from the dark tunnel, the one on the right, you are sure.

“Hello?” you ask. “Hello?” All the echos get swallowed.

You pull out the flashlight to look down the tunnel. It flares briefly to life and then dies. There is something down the tunnel, indistinct, more an afterimage than anything. You shake the flashlight. Nothing. You set it down under the filthy map and pull out your cellphone. The flashlight app shows you something in the tunnel, something.

DO YOU turn right and investigate the dark tunnel? TURN TO PAGE 82

DO YOU turn left and continue searching for the entrance to the White House Residence? TURN TO PAGE 90