Chapter 11
New Beginning
Eric set down Mark's gun beside him, leaning it against the tree for support. Then he began to
rummage through his bag, his hands searching through the various items he had
haphazardly packed. He pulled out a water bottle, a few energy bars, a first-aid kit, and a
few other small essentials. Eric sat with his back against a tree in the cold winter morning,
his bag beside him. He took a sip from his thermos flask, the warm water providing a slight
comfort in the bitter cold. His stomach grumbled, reminding him of the energy bars and other
snacks he had packed in his bag. With a weary sigh, he dug through his belongings,
searching for something to eat. The silence of the forest was oppressive, broken only by the
distant call of a bird or the occasional rustling of leaves in the trees. But there was no sign
of another person, no sound of voices or footsteps. Eric felt completely alone, isolated in the
cold winter landscape.
Eric yearned for companionship, desperately wishing for someone to talk to and share his
thoughts with. But the forest around him was eerily silent, and there was no trace of another
soul in sight. He felt alone, the weight of his solitude heavy on his shoulders. He tried to
distract himself by focusing on the tasks at hand, sorting through his belongings and
checking his supplies. As he rummaged through his belongings, he came across a mini
survival stove and a small can of propane, along with a small packet of powdered tomato
soup. He had completely forgotten about these items since his arrival in West Arvada a few
months ago. He looked at the items in his hands, feeling a strange sense of nostalgia and
sadness as memories of his daughter came flooding back.
Eric prepped the stove and poured in the powdered soup with water from his bottle and
began to boil it. As the soup began to bubble and boil over the stove, Eric's thoughts raced. He
wondered if he was the only one who had made it out alive. But realizing that such heavy
thoughts were too much to bear right now, he forced them aside and focused on the present.
He took a deep breath and tried to calm his mind, relishing the warmth of the stove in the
cold winter morning.
Eric's gaze fell upon a small item resting amidst his belongings - Emma's ring. As he looked
at it, a wave of sadness washed over him. He had forgotten about it in the chaos of the
previous night. As he looked at the ring, memories flooded back to him. He remembered how
Emma had taken it from the house as they headed towards the armoury, and how she had
given it to him just before her death. He could still vividly recall the look on her face as she
handed it to him, eyes filled with both sadness and determination. The sight of the ring now
filled him with a profound sense of loss and sorrow.
As Eric clenched the ring in his fist, a wave of relief washed over him as he realized that he
could safely carry Emma's memory with him. With a sense of reverence, he removed the
glove on his right hand and began to try the ring on each of his fingers. After a few attempts,
it finally fit snugly onto his pinky finger, as if it was meant to be there. He closed his fists,
feeling the cool metal of the ring against his palm, a comfort amidst the pain and turmoil.
After putting the ring on and putting his glove back on, he leaned back against the tree and
took a few more sips of the hot soup. The warmth and taste provided a brief respite from the
cold and the loneliness, if only for a moment. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his
racing thoughts. His eyes swept across the silent forest, taking in the towering trees and the
vast expanse of wilderness. There was no sign of anyone else nearby, no hint of human
presence. It was just him and the trees. The loneliness and solitude were almost
overwhelming.
Eric sipped his soup in solitude, the silence was broken only by the rustling of leaves and the
distant call of birds. He finished the last drops of the soup and then washed the metal cup he
had been drinking from with a handful of snow. The coldness of the snow sent a shiver down
his spine, reminding him of just how isolated he was.
As Eric tidied up his belongings, packing away the cup, stove, gas can, and other items that
were scattered about, he caught a glimpse of something sticking out from one of the bag's
flap pockets. He paused, curious to see what it was, and carefully pulled out the item. As Eric
examined the items he had pulled out from the pocket of his bag, he realized that it was the
GPS device that Mark had taken from the armory. Alongside it was a piece of paper with
coordinates scribbled on it, probably some of the places that Mark knew about. Eric pondered
when Mark had put these items into his bag and why he had chosen to do so. A smile tugged
at the corners of Eric's lips as he recalled Mark's wild plan about tunneling to the armory.
The mental image of Mark excitedly explaining and making up his plan, with its outrageous
and foolhardy nature, was humorous. For a brief moment, Eric found himself chuckling at the
thought of it.
As Eric read through the coordinates and their corresponding locations, he became more
puzzled. These places were unfamiliar to him, and he couldn't recall when or how Mark had
plotted them. They hadn't used the GPS outside of West Arvada since their expedition to the
armory, so he wondered where these locations came from. As Eric scanned through the list,
he noticed that some places were marked "Safe," while others had different markings
ranging from 1 to 5. Confused, he wondered what these numbers could mean. The
possibilities went through Eric's mind, and he concluded that perhaps they could indicate
varying levels of danger associated with each location. Eric's eyes settled onto a pair of
coordinates that seemed close by. His heart sank as he read the words "safe home" scribbled
there, and the number 4 that had since replaced it. The reality of the situation came crashing
down on him once more. West Arvada, their former home and the place they had once
thought of as safe, now bore the ominous mark of a 4 on the list. Eric continued to read
through the list of coordinates, the numbers and annotations puzzling him further. The pair
of coordinates that had originally been marked as "safe" but had since been replaced by a 3
caught his attention. He wondered idly where Mark had obtained these coordinates and how
he had been able to update them, considering they were so far away from their current
location.
The mystery surrounding these locations and the markings on the paper left eric with more
questions than answers. He wondered how Mark had come across these places and why they
were marked the way they were. The sense of isolation and the silence of the forest only
added to his confusion and anxiety. Eric reached his hand back into the pocket once more,
hoping to find something that could provide insight into the coordinates he had just read. He
muttered to himself, "There has to be more than this," as he rummaged through the contents
of the pocket. His hand reached in the far spaces of the pocket searching for anything, but
there was nothing he could find. As Eric looked back at the GPS device he had found in his
bag, he noticed that it resembled a Nokia phone, but larger. It had a small antenna sticking
out from it and a screen with a small map of the area, showing coordinates in the top right
corner. He saw his general location marked on the map with a triangle, signifying his
whereabouts. Eric's gaze shifted to the buttons below the screen of the GPS device. He saw a
D-Pad surrounded by buttons labeled "mark," "enter," "find," "quit," and "menu," each with its
own function. He realized that the device seemed to be a GPS with additional features,
possibly for marking locations or tracking routes. He wondered what the buttons did, but he
was reluctant to try them without knowing how the device worked. So, he turned his
attention back to the paper and re-examined the list of coordinates and marks.
Eric considered the list of safe locations and their corresponding coordinates, but he was
uncertain about their reliability. Not knowing if the coordinates were up-to-date or
trustworthy left him with a sense of doubt. He deliberated over the prospect of going to any
of these safe locations but felt paralyzed by the uncertainty. His thoughts raced through his
mind, contemplating the risks and possibilities. The last thing he wanted was to set off for a
place marked as safe only to discover it no longer was, putting himself in even more danger.
The idea of going to a safe location seemed both tempting and risky, and Eric found himself
stuck in a state of indecision. His thoughts raced through his mind, contemplating the risks
and possibilities. The last thing he wanted was to set off for a place marked as safe only to
discover it no longer was, putting himself in even more danger. The idea of going to a safe
location seemed both tempting and risky, and Eric found himself stuck in a state of
indecision.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. The silence of
the forest seemed to amplify his anxieties, making it even harder to make a decision. He
knew he couldn't stay in the cold and isolated area indefinitely, but the fear of making a
wrong move held him back.
Eric's thoughts took a turn as he considered what the dead people would want. Staying in the
cold, lonely forest wasn't an option, and he knew he couldn't linger there indefinitely. He
needed to move on. With newfound determination, Eric took one last glance at the list of
coordinates and packed the paper, GPS device and other items back into his bag before
getting up to leave. He had chosen a safe point somewhere around 2300 miles away and
circled it with a marker in his bag.
Eric stood up, shouldered his bag, slung the rifle over his shoulder and placed the GPS on his
belt. He put the coordinates securely in the inner pocket of his jacket before starting to walk
in the direction of where the coordinates were taking him. The weight of his belongings felt
heavy, but he forced himself to keep going, driven by the need to find a place of safety.
Back in the destroyed office of West Arvada:
An old telephone can be heard buzzing and ringing, its lonely sound echoing through the
abandoned room. However, there is no sign of any human presence in the vicinity. The
lifeless body of James hangs from the wall, pinned by a motionless appendage of an angel.
Blood splatters adorn the walls, creating a gruesome scene that seems frozen in time. The
lonely ringing of the telephone only adds to the eerie atmosphere, a stark reminder of the
tragedy that occurred in this office.
The phone goes to voicemail- The sound of a woman's voice is heard on the other end of the
line, her tone weary and voice thick with emotion. There were long breathed intervals as she
spoke:
"James, I got your voicemail, but we were in a meeting. I'm so sorry I couldn't pick up.
The roads are shut down and..."
"I heard your town got compromised. I just hope you all are still alive…."
"I could finally get your group the green flag. You all can enter the walls now. I know
we are far but please try to get here…"
"We cannot lose any more people, there are already so little of us left."
"If someone else is hearing this and James is dead, head to the coordinates of forty
three degrees, fifty two minutes north and eighty five degrees thirty one minutes
west"
"I repeat, come to forty three degrees, fifty two minutes north and eighty five
degrees thirty one minutes west"
"James, if you're alive... I love you"
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_______End of Act-I_______