It begins with the blast of a whistle, and then everyone starts to run.  For us, though, this was not the run to be first across the finish line… this was the run of the hunted.  We had no delusions of winning this race; we were more concerned with surviving to the end.  The wolves were out there… the Red Ribbon Army… and they had bikes.  At the start, Dax warned us against feeling invincible, but we never once felt that way… we were walking targets, always vulnerable, and only the shadows could protect us.  Stay low, stay hidden, and maybe, maybe, you might make it through to the end.

Perhaps a bit of an introduction is in order.  My name is Nick, I was born and raised in Chicago where I attended Whitney Young High School (class of 2003), and I recently graduated from Oberlin College (class of 07).  My compatriots were named Peter and Sam, fellow graduates of Whitney Young and current students at DePaul.  We named ourselves Wet Pedestal, after the slightly dampened structure upon which we sat while waiting for the game to begin.  We were joined at the beginning by two more WY grads, Alex and Jessica, but they were not fully informed as to what they were getting into, and had to leave early to keep to the schedule of a previously planned vacation.

From the get go, we decided to stick to back-alleys and side streets… main streets were too open.  We kept in sight of the train tracks for as long as we could, to keep ourselves
oriented.  We had split off from the other groups pretty early, though a solitary runner named Ian joined us for part of the way to the first Checkpoint.  When we got to Division, we could see other groups making their way east, so we broke off and headed north to separate ourselves from the herd.  We stayed with this route as long as we could, cutting through alleys and the walkways between houses, prepared, if we had to, to jump into yards and hop fences.  Eventually, we were forced back onto
Division… but there were so many other groups visible that, if there were any signs of chasers, we could see people react and bolt accordingly. 

By this point, the fog had rolled in over downtown, making its looming presence seem almost ghostly.  This was just what we were hoping for.  If ever there was a time for a zombie apocalypse, it would be now.

We made it to the first Checkpoint along with the others, surprised at the relative quiet along the way.  We had to get a replacement map for Sam, as he lost his along with a spare pack of cigarettes in the initial burst of running.  It was also at this point that Alex and Jessica had to leave.  It was sad to see them go, but in the end, a group of three moves more easily than a group of five.

Now began the real challenge.  Our initial plan was to work our way down to the Chicago Blue Line stop, take that to Grand, and go from there to the second Checkpoint.This plan went out the window when we first encountered the chasers and all hell broke loose.  It happened exactly how one would want it to, cinematically speaking.  It was like
living through the first half-hour of Cloverfield… we couldn’t see the monsters, but we saw the havoc they caused.  We were taking our standard side routes, cautiously approaching the intersection where the Chicago station sat, inviting us into its safe haven.  There was a large crowd of
runners ahead, moving towards the station with seemingly undue casualness.  And then there was screaming.  It was a panic, the runners scattering to the four winds.  We didn’t need to be told what the source of it was… we knew all too well.  The chasers were camping outside of the CTA stations.  Sure, the trains were safe… but the enemy had cut off all access to them.  We should have expected this.  We made a decision right then to avoid the stations.  It would have to be a journey by foot, the whole way.

But we had other things to be concerned with right then.  We had avoided the main crowd and the chasers that pursued them, but we were still faced with one colossal problem: getting across Chicago and Milwaukee.  From our hiding places, we could see that chasers were crawling all over the area.  They weren’t playing around, either.  They were walking with purpose like armed guards over a military complex.  Among the patrols, we spotted people we recognized from the starting line… there had already been casualties, and now they were working for the other side.  We started maneuvering around the main thoroughfares, looking for a way to break through.  We encountered a couple of solitary chasers once or twice, cutting through ruined sections, tunnels and parking lots to evade them.  All the while, church bells were ringing, as if to herald our impending doom.  We almost tried to hide inside of one of these massive cathedrals while running from a chaser, but there just wasn’t time to get in. 

As we passed by a factory, its dreadful machines still churning away into the night, we started to formulate a plan.  At last, our years of playing games like Silent Hill 2, Metal Gear Solid and Rainbow Six would come in handy.  We stayed
low.  We checked every corner for signs of chaser activity.  Peter took point,
Sam took rearguard, and I kept the map open to navigate.  During this period, we ran into several very confused groups of innocent bystanders.  We even explained the game to a couple of them, who were envious of our youthful endeavors and were reminded of their own glory days playing Capture
the Flag. 

After working our way around Chicago and Milwaukee, getting turned around in circles at least twice, we were soon confronted by the highway.  On the other side was Grand, close to our next target.  But this area was just as bad as the one we just left.  The chasers had the place heavily guarded.  We ended up working our way far to the south before coming up to the second Checkpoint… they said that we were the first ones to approach from that direction.  They also said that about 45 runners had come before us.  We had lost too much time dodging the chasers… but at least we were still in the game.

Honestly, we never expected to make it that far.  And, since we had little to no hope of making it to the finish line first, we decided to go for the glory… all three Bonus Checkpoints.  The first one was almost directly east of the second Checkpoint, and the third Checkpoint lay just to the northeast of it.  It was almost a straight shot east… which was unsettling, to say the least.  Taking a straight path between Checkpoints was like walking right into the chasers’ hunting grounds.  At this point, though, we figured that enough of the runners had passed through, so the chasers would most likely have followed.  All the same, we stayed alert.

When we arrived in downtown proper, the nature of the game changed dramatically.  No longer could we check every pedestrian on the street for signs of ribbons (if they were “armed” or not)… there were just too many of them, and they were all around us.  Never before had being downtown engendered such paranoia.  We found the first Bonus
Checkpoint all right, nearby the almost monolithic raised bridge, and from there made it to the third Checkpoint with relative ease, using a group of innocent bystanders as unknowing “meat-shields.”  We appreciated the choice of location for this one… the original Billy Goat’s Tavern.  We used to go to the other Billy Goat’s restaurant for lunch back in high school, so being there brought back memories.

It was while looking for the second Bonus Checkpoint that we had our closest call that night.  Up on Michigan, we could see the alley where the Checkpoint was supposed to be, but we couldn’t figure out how to get down there.  It was way too far to jump, so that idea was out.  Sam decided to scout ahead to the north a bit, while Peter checked a large map-board with a small group of pedestrians.  I wandered after Sam, just to keep everyone in sight.  That was when the chaser appeared.  She rounded the corner, red ribbon clearly
visible, and Sam and I just turned and bolted.  As we ran past the map, I shouted “Peter!  Run!” and that was all it took.  I think we gave some of the people on the sidewalk a bit of a shock as we dashed by.  One group of them caught up with us around the corner, where we stopped to rest after we made sure that we were no longer being followed.  When they asked what we were running from, Peter nonchalantly said “the Cops” as he tied his shoe.  We almost had them convinced, too.

We eventually found the stairs down to lower Wacker (can we say “sketchy”?), and from there to the second Bonus Checkpoint.  We weren’t entirely surprised when we found rats scurrying all over the place.  At least they recognized that we were much larger, and therefore higher on the food chain than they were.  They ran from us like we ran from chasers… an uncomfortable metaphor, to be sure.

At the fourth Checkpoint, we stopped to rest.  While I marked the cardboard tower with “Wet Pedestal was here,” Peter searched for a bathroom and Sam had a smoke.  We were slightly unnerved to find a chaser in the safe zone… we thought they couldn’t enter the area around a Checkpoint, but we took solace in knowing that he couldn’t do anything until we left.  After reviewing the map, we found that the Blue Line would take us almost directly to the third Bonus Checkpoint, so we decided on a change of tactics.  This worked out especially well because there was a station just across the street from the safe zone.  But, when we tried to cross, another chaser rounded the corner across the street.  So we ducked back into the safe zone and
tried to wait him out.  It was then that we realized our stupidity.  An entrance
to the train station was sitting right there, inside the safe zone, almost directly south of the cardboard
tower.  We quickly dashed inside.

We found another group of runners in the station below, waiting for the same train.  They were on their way to the fifth Checkpoint, suggesting to us that, as we had figured
previously, not many people were going for the bonuses.  Excellent… those medals of Courage had our names all over them.  This peaceful moment of satisfied reflection was broken when the chaser from across the street descended the steps into the station.  There was a brief moment of inner panic… we were trapped.  He couldn’t tag us here, but all he would have to do would be to follow us on the train and catch us at the exit.  In the mean time, we laughed and made light
of the situation.  The chaser seemed friendly enough… like a wolf among sheep.  When the first train came, I whispered an idea to my companions: pretend to get on the train, then jump out before the doors closed.  If we timed it just right, we could avoid the inevitable at the end of the line.  The other group saw us make the attempt and did the same, tipping off the wolf
before the doors could close.  We all had a laugh afterwards… but there was noticeable discomfort in that laugh.  Our ploy had failed.  We would have to deal with our pursuer
another way.

Fortunately, we didn’t have to.  The other group got on a train going the
other way, and he followed them on when they weren’t looking (that sly dog…).  In the meantime, another group of runners showed up.  This team consisted of a red-eyed (possible vampire) man named Jim and three girls named Beth, Megan, and Marlena (sorry if I got any of those wrong).  They too were headed for the fifth Checkpoint, and since they had to get off at the same station as we did, we accompanied them on the train, swapping war stories all the way.  When we emerged at the Clinton station, checking over the top of the sidewalk for any signs of chasers, we bid our fellow runners farewell and headed for the Bonus Checkpoint, mere blocks away.

All three Bonus Checkpoints were now ours… we could almost taste those medals.  There was no stopping us now.  The paths to Checkpoints 5 and 6, however, would not be easy.  They were relatively straight shots, with few side-streets for us to duck through.  We decided to take Jefferson down to Roosevelt, rather than the larger streets, Clinton and Canal.  We apparently chose the right path, for the place was almost completely empty.  When we were close to reaching the fifth Checkpoint, we saw the first sign of a
possible chaser.  In a dark alley up ahead, a figure crouched, cloaked in shadow.  What little light went through reflected on something… a flash of red.  We proceeded carefully, making aturn away from the alley and hoping we looked innocent enough.  Apparently, he didn’t notice us pass.  As we later learned, it was because he was busy stalking a different group of prey…

It was the group with whom we had just parted ways.  They were about to make it to the fifth Checkpoint, but were cornered and caught just outside the safe zone.  When we arrived, they had just been converted, and were on their way into the diner.  A group of runners outside told us how it all went down.  We were shocked… they got there just before we did.  That could have been us.  A narrow miss, to be
sure.  And now, there was the problem of getting out of the fifth Checkpoint with our Blue Ribbons intact.  It would take some smooth operating to get us out of this one.

Or hunger.  As it turned out, the other group decided to stop for a bite to eat, giving us plenty of time to get our manifests signed, visit the restroom, and get the hell out of there with enough of a head start that we wouldn’t have to worry about them later.  That left only one small problem: Roosevelt.  The path to the sixth and final Checkpoint was uncomfortably direct.  While the huge safe zone, extending all the way to Clark, was a small blessing, there was almost nothing in the way of available side streets in the area… no way to cut around the gauntlet we were sure Roosevelt would prove to be.  We heard from another runner that one group went all the way down to Chinatown to avoid this stretch.  We were far too tired to try that, so we decided to compromise.  Looking at the map, we found that we could cut down to 13^th Street
and take that to bypass a small section of Roosevelt.  It wouldn’t be much, but it would take us out
of the prime hunting grounds for at least a stretch.

This decision, out of all the strategizing we did that night, was the one that saved us most definitively.  When we made it to the finish line, we heard that there was a chaser camping out on a corner of Roosevelt, right across the street from where we came up from 13^th.  Had we stayed on Roosevelt the whole way, he doubtlessly would have caught us.

All that was left was to get across Lake Shore Drive and into the museum campus.  Unfortunately, there are no pedestrian crosswalks in that area.  By
this time, we were so tired and so on edge that we just decided to run across.  This, upon retrospection, was probably stupid.  One misstep and we could have been road-kill.  Fortunately, it was almost midnight, so traffic wasn’t that bad.  We made it across to find one last obstacle in our way: a huge, black-iron fence.  It was too high to climb over, so we started scaling along its side, looking for a break that we could squeeze through, if not a regular old entrance (would that have been too much to ask?  Clearly).  Finally, near an overpass, we found one… but the ground was too far down to drop.  So we edged our way around to the other side and scaled the fence back the other way, until a hill came up close enough to the wall to jump down safely.  Once inside, we ran.  We weren’t sure where the safe zone started, so we tried to make it to the Aquarium as fast as our legs could carry us (this turned out to be an actual issue… the chaser from the train station, whom I like to refer to as the Wolf, was hanging around in front of the Field Museum.  It seems we weren’t the only ones unsure of the safe zone’s exact location). 

That’s when the flood lights came on.  It was like a jailbreak… three guys, dressed all in black, running across a lawn with the white lights on their backs.  Turning around, we could see the police car, perched upon the overpass with blue lights flashing.  We ran like hell.  We were so close… to get stopped by actual authorities now would just be
crushing.  Then, Peter had a brilliant idea: stop.  Turn.  Wave.  We did, and it did the trick.  The cops realized that we weren’t up to anything sketchy, and were, in fact, perfectly willing to chat with them.  So
they left.  We were home free.

“Home free” might have been a bit of a misleading phrase… because we weren’t exactly sure where home was.  We were told that everyone would be waiting in front of the museum… but
no one was there.  We checked the Aquarium… still no luck.  After wandering
around for 10 or 15 minutes, we remembered that Dax left his contact information on the manifest in case of emergency, so we gave him a call.  Being lost wasn’t exactly an emergency… but dammit, we were tired!  A quick call later, we arrived at the finish line.  It was 11:50 pm.  We made it all the way to the end, with all three Bonus Checkpoints, in just under 4 and ½ hours.  Not a single one of these goals did we expect to accomplish.  But we did it.  And we were proud.

According to Heather’s estimate, we were about the 13-15^th runners to make it to the end.  We found this somewhat surprising… we thought a lot more than that would make it before us.  We were not, unfortunately, the first team to cross the line with all three Bonus Checkpoints… alas, the Medal of Courage would not be ours.  This, however, was a minor detail… in our minds, we showed plenty of courage, determination, and downright cleverness.  We wore our Medals of Merit proudly, and with a sense of great accomplishment.  We made it to the End of the Night, and had quite a story to tell when we got there.