Time Traveller

Steeling yourself against the eeriness of the ghost city with its howling wind, you set off down the wide road. It obviously hasn't been used in a long time - weeds are coming up through myriad cracks in the ground here too. Some of the cars are models you've never seen before - well, that's to be expected. They have a sweeping, almost dolphin-like design and on closer inspection, no exhausts. Strange. Some of them have obviously been here a long time. There are older models here too - namely beaten up old taxis from your own time and decrepit, hollowed-out vans. Right down one side, as if parked, is a long, dented old coach, its windows shattered and once-plush seats open to the sky.

You are beginning to hear the sounds of activity now - faint shouts and the stark clatter of gunfire. Not good activity then, but it's better than this seemingly-empty metropolis.

Suddenly, there is the unmistable thwack of rotor blades, appearing out of nowhere and resounding off the sheer, glass walls around you. The helicopter is not in sight yet, but your instincts tell you it's probably not a good idea to be standing in a deserted street when it does.

You have a few moments to decide on the best place to lay low.