Chapter 5
The Expedition
The Old rusty handle opened with a loud thud as the door swung open. The outside air was
refreshing in an odd fashion. Although practically the same as the air inside W. Arvada, it did
not carry the ferrous smell of rust, the stench of mold or the smoke of fire. While the
settlement's air was musty and felt heavy on the lungs, the gush of wind was natural, light
and smelled of flora and the earth. It felt refreshing in a way that he didn't think was
possible. Eric took a deep breath and sighed. It felt as if a huge weight had lifted from his
shoulders, and he felt calm. The others seemingly had the same experience that moment.
This breeze carried with it the scent of pure freedom. But this scene of being let go of the
shackles and exploring outside was a double-edged sword. This might as well be the last
time one or all of them would see the outside world and how it had degraded in the past few
days. It had almost been a week since the normal world had collapsed. Eric swallowed the
saliva in his mouth and stood ready.
"We should get going." Mark said, breaking the peace and quiet with his voice. Eric turned his
head to the sounds of Mark's voice, noticing that it had changed from its usual tone. Mark's
voice was now more serious and authoritative, as if the weight of the situation was suddenly
bearing down on him. He realized that their lives were at stake and the stakes had just
gotten higher. Mark's words carried more weight now and his tone conveyed the sense of
urgency and danger present in the situation. It was as if all the experience Mark had with his
time in the forces had come forward and brought this command in him. Eric looked at his
teammates, noticing that their expressions had also changed. They seemed more focused
and alert now. Mark took a deep breath and turned towards the group, his voice stern and
confident. "Those things may have noticed that thud, so we don't want to waste any time.
Everyone, jump into the bushes and the bunch of trees nearby to help conceal your presence
from them. Let's move quickly, the armory is not far from here." The group nodded, quickly
jumping into position in the large bushes nearby as Mark led the way. They moved slowly,
trying not to make much sound with their walking, staying low and keeping their eyes peeled
for any signs of danger. They stuck with the wall behind the overgrown bushes. Everything
was being done to plan. Suddenly Joshua said in a hushed voice "Everyone I don't mean to
alarm you, but I see danger" Everyone froze, listening intently to Joshua's words as the
group's tension rose. Mark turned towards the direction that Joshua was pointing to see
what the danger was.
"What is it?" he whispered, keeping his voice low as a warning. "Don't look now, but there is
an angel nearby." Joshua replied, pointing at the distance where a faintly glowing figure was
approaching them.
"Can you tell if it's seen us?" Mark whispered, staring at the figure as the group held their
breath "No, I don't think so." Joshua said. "Still, it might not be a bad idea to continue through
the woods." Mark let out a sigh of relief as the creature turned away, but his face remained
stern and serious. He nodded in agreement with Joshua as he led the group through the
woods. They were careful to keep their footsteps as quiet as possible to avoid alerting it or
any other enemies lurking nearby. Mark constantly looked around, making sure they were
not spotted.
As the group walked through the woods, they were met with the sounds of peacefulness. The
quiet chirping of birds and the occasional hoot of owls filled the air. Crickets and other
insects made their presence known with their buzzing and chirping. The woods were calm,
soothing the group as they walked through the lush greenery around them. The air was crisp
and clean, free from the scents of urban and industrial areas. Despite the peacefulness of
the woods, there was the lingering feeling that they were being watched. Eric felt it too as if
a chilling sensation ran behind his back suddenly tensing his muscles. "What the fuck are
you doing. Don't stand out!" Roared mark in a hushed tone. "The trees aren't that dense
anyway. So don't do dumb shit." Eric snapped out of his trance as he heard Mark's voice.
Eric's heart raced as he looked around, trying to find out what was causing the feeling he
had felt before.
"I'm sorry..." Eric said quietly, glancing towards Mark, who seemed unhappy about something.
Eric tried to move further into the woods, hiding behind a nearby tree as Mark continued
leading the group. Eric's mind raced with thoughts and feelings as he tried to put his unease
aside. He wanted to contribute, but he didn't want to be a burden.
They walked and came out beside a street. It was a quaint neighborhood. Illuminated by the
lights that hadn't been turned off since that fateful day. "How much further until we reach
the armory? I don't wanna be out in the open for longer." Madison asked quietly, looking at
Mark. "We are more than halfway there. Now shut it and just keep quiet. We know they can
see us well over here. We are still unsure about them hearing." The streetlamps flickered to
life with a hum as Mark's voice cut through the silence. "This place is familiar," Dylan
murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "My family…" His words trailed off into the
darkness. Mark's gaze was unyielding as he turned to Dylan. "Focus. We can't afford
distractions." The sharpness in his tone was a clear command. Dylan's expression darkened
with frustration, the weight of unanswered questions about his parents' fate heavy on his
mind. Dylan's voice was a strained whisper, "But what if they're in there? What if they need
help?"
Mark's response was firm, his words slicing through the tension. "The creatures are lethal.
Our priority is the armory. We arm ourselves, then we return. No detours." Dylan nodded, the
gravity of their situation settling in. Mark laid out the plan with clinical precision. "Straight
ahead for half a mile, then a right at the second alley. Silence is our ally. If you spot one of
them, signal with three taps. No words." The group moved with purpose, their steps
measured and silent. Mark led them, his vigilance unwavering. They turned right as
instructed, every sense alert for danger.
Eric's skin prickled with the sensation of unseen eyes upon him. He scanned the shadows for
any sign of the creatures but saw nothing amiss. Then, three taps on his shoulder sent a jolt
through him. Emma's urgent gesture drew his gaze to a figure bathed in the pale light of a
streetlamp, not a hundred meters away. The creature stood motionless, entranced by the
light. Without a sound, they slipped into a nearby house, the door closing with a soft click.
The creature remained outside; its attention fixed on the light.
Inside, the group's breaths were shallow, their movements deliberate and silent. Mark
peered through the window, his face a mask of concentration. The creature stood still, a
sentinel in the night. "We wait," Mark's voice was a whisper, patience strained but necessary.
The tension in the air was palpable as they surveyed the abandoned home. Eric's voice was
low, "Check the house. The open door suggests it's empty. No 'Angels' here." Madison's
comment was a quiet reflection, "Angels… an ironic name, yet fitting." The group agreed, the
name a small comfort in the face of danger. Mark's focus never wavered. "Angels it is. But
our safety comes first."
The flickering streetlamps cast an otherworldly glow, the Angel's presence a silent threat.
The group dispersed, searching for supplies in hushed urgency. Eric's search was methodical,
his movements careful to avoid any noise. The Angel's acute senses were an unknown
variable they couldn't afford to test.
Eric's eyes scanned the dimly lit room, his mind racing for alternatives. "The forest," he said
suddenly, his voice low but clear. "The trees could provide cover, and it's less likely they've
ventured there." The group fell silent, considering the new route. The forest was a variable,
untamed and unpredictable, but it offered a veil of darkness that the open streets could not.
Mark's face was etched with concern, yet there was a hint of resolve in his eyes. "It's risky,"
he admitted, "but it might be our only shot at reaching armory undetected."
One by one, the others nodded, their expressions set in grim determination. They understood
the stakes; the forest was a gamble, but so was their entire endeavor. As they slipped
through the back door and into the shadowy embrace of the woods, the world around them
seemed to hold its breath. The dense canopy above muffled their footsteps, and the
underbrush became their ally, concealing their passage. Dylan, trailing at the rear, paused
as a distant, mournful wail reached his ears. The sound of the Angel's cry was haunting. It
was coming from the direction of his childhood home.
He strained his ears, the distant shrieks growing more distinct, more desperate. A cold
realization washed over him; the Angel was there, in the house where he had grown up,
where memories lingered in every corner. The others noticed Dylan's sudden stillness, their
eyes questioning. "It's my parents' house," he whispered, the pain evident in his voice. "The
Angel… it's there." Mark placed a hand on Dylan's shoulder, a silent gesture of solidarity. "We
can't go back, not now," he said, his voice firm yet empathetic. "But we'll remember this, for
them."
The group moved on, the haunting cries of the Angel fading into the background, a stark
reminder of the world they had lost and the dangers that lay ahead. Dylan carried the sound
with him, a mournful symphony that spurred them forward, through the darkened forest and
towards their goal.
The journey through the forest was arduous, fraught with unseen dangers and the constant
threat of the Angels. The group's nerves were frayed, each shadow and rustle of leaves a
potential harbinger of doom. They pressed on, driven by the singular goal of reaching the
armory.
After what seemed an eternity, the dense foliage finally gave way to the clearing behind the
armory building. The structure loomed before them, a fortress in the night. Its steel-framed
door stood as the final barrier between them and the cache of weapons they desperately
needed.
Emma, who had been resourceful throughout their trek, stepped forward with a small,
metallic object she had found earlier in the abandoned house. It was a simple, unassuming
piece, but in her hands, it was the key to their survival. With bated breath, the group watched
as Emma inserted the object into the door's mechanism. There was a tense moment of
silence, then a soft click. The door yielded, swinging open with a quiet groan of metal on
metal. They slipped inside, the darkness of the armory enveloping them like a cloak. The air
was cool and still, a stark contrast to the chaos of the world outside. Here, in the shadows,
they found a moment of respite, a chance to arm themselves for the battles to come. The
door closed behind them with a soft thud, sealing away the night and its horrors. For now,
they were safe. For now, they had hope.
Joshua's hand moved swiftly to the switchboard as the door sealed shut behind them. With a
flick, the armory was bathed in the dim, teal glow of aged fluorescent tubes, their light
casting long shadows across the room. The walls, lined with reinforced steel, enclosed a
space that was both sanctuary and arsenal. Racks upon racks of weaponry and supplies
stood before them, a testament to a world that had once been prepared for any threat.
The air was heavy with the scent of oil and metal, a sharp reminder of the armory's purpose.
As their eyes adjusted to the light, they noticed the disarray. Some weapons were
conspicuously absent, their outlines in the dust the only evidence they had ever been there.
Others lay scattered on the floor, as if dropped in haste by hands that once shook with the
same fear that now gripped them. It was clear that the police, in the chaos of that fateful
day, had made a last stand here. Cartridges were strewn about, and a few firearms were
discarded, their barrels still pointing towards the now silent doorway. The scene spoke of a
desperate battle, of choices made in split seconds that had echoed through time to this very
moment.
Their hearts, though heavy with the reality of the past, were also ignited with a newfound
determination. Here, amidst the remnants of a struggle long ended, they would find the
means to forge their path forward, to fight back against the darkness that had consumed
their world. The armory, with its promise of protection and power, a fleeting sense of
dominion over their fate. The weapons and gear that surrounded them were cold comfort,
offering a momentary illusion of control in a world where the Angels had destroyed what
once they called life.
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