Haven bustled with activity as Gale integrated into its daily life. The survivors—now numbering about seventy—were a diverse mix of former city-dwellers, farmers, and scavengers who had banded together after the apocalypse began. They lived within a perimeter of reinforced scrap metal walls that stood resilient against Splicer attacks. Inside, small shacks and communal fire pits dotted the area, while makeshift watchtowers loomed overhead, manned by weary guards armed with scavenged rifles and crossbows.
Gale spent his mornings training the survivors. His Amplifier gave him an edge in combat, and he used his experience from the previous timeline to teach them techniques for taking down Splicers efficiently. The evenings were quieter, giving him time to forge connections.
Callie—the young woman who had first found him—often joined him during evening patrols. She was spry and quick, her blonde hair always tied back into a ponytail. Despite her petite frame, she had a sharp wit and a survivor's grit.
"So, you're really from the future?" Callie asked one night, walking alongside him as they circled the perimeter. The torches cast flickering shadows, the distant hoots of nocturnal animals filling the silence.
"That's one way to put it," Gale said. He flexed his hand, feeling the faint hum of the Amplifier under his skin. "I've seen how bad things get. Whole cities swallowed by the Rift, humans turning into monsters... It's why I can't let it happen again."
Callie studied him for a moment, her sharp blue eyes narrowing. "That's a lot to carry on your shoulders."
"I don't have a choice," Gale replied. "The Rift doesn't care about excuses."
Callie smirked. "Maybe not, but you've got us now. You don't have to do it alone."
The sincerity in her voice surprised him, and for the first time, he felt a flicker of hope that his burden might not be his alone to bear.
Gale wasn't naive enough to believe Haven's safety would last. Humanity, fractured by the apocalypse, had splintered into tribes. Some were cooperative, like Haven, striving to rebuild. Others, driven by greed and desperation, saw resources and power as the only paths to survival. The Red Claws, a brutal tribe of raiders known for marking their faces with bloody handprints, were the worst of them all.
Rumors of Red Claw activity had reached Haven weeks ago, but Marcus—Haven's gruff and battle-hardened leader—had been hesitant to act without proof. That changed when a scout stumbled back into camp, his body bloodied and broken, with news of a raider attack on a nearby farming settlement.
"They're heading this way," the scout gasped before collapsing.
Gale stood in the center of Haven's meeting hall as Marcus addressed the gathered survivors. The leader's broad shoulders and square jaw gave him an air of authority, but his weathered eyes betrayed his weariness.
"We need to prepare for a fight," Marcus said, his voice echoing in the hall. "The Red Claws won't stop until they've bled us dry."
"And while we're busy fighting them, the Rift will keep growing," Gale interjected. "We can't afford distractions."
Marcus rounded on him, his frustration evident. "Distractions? You think these people don't matter? If we lose Haven, there won't be anyone left to fight your damn Rift."
Tension crackled in the room. Gale met Marcus's glare but said nothing. He knew the man was right—humanity couldn't fight the Rift if it was already tearing itself apart.
The Red Claws came at dawn, their battle cries piercing the morning fog. They charged the walls on scavenged motorcycles and in rusted trucks, their makeshift weapons gleaming in the pale light. Gale stood atop a watchtower, his Amplifier glowing faintly as he prepared for the assault.
The first wave was chaotic. Arrows and bullets rained down from Haven's defenders, taking out the raiders who got too close. But the Red Claws were relentless. One raider threw a grappling hook over the wall, hauling himself up with inhuman strength. Gale intercepted him, his knife flashing in the sunlight as he drove it into the raider's chest.
Callie fought beside him, her movements a blur as she ducked and weaved through the chaos. She used a salvaged crossbow with deadly accuracy, each bolt finding its mark.
Below, Marcus led the ground defense, his booming voice rallying the survivors. He swung a massive axe with practiced ease, cleaving through raiders who broke through the gates.
But the Red Claws had a trump card.
A massive Splicer emerged from the ranks, its body bristling with spikes. It let out a guttural roar before charging the gate. The survivors' weapons barely slowed it down, their attacks glancing off its armored hide.
Gale jumped down from the tower, landing in a crouch. The Amplifier flared as he sprinted toward the Splicer, dodging its massive claws. He drove his knife into its side, channeling a surge of energy through the blade. The creature screeched, convulsing as the Amplifier's energy disrupted its mutated veins.
With one final strike, Gale severed the creature's head, its body collapsing in a heap. The remaining Red Claws, seeing their beast fall, retreated into the wasteland.
The aftermath of the battle left Haven shaken but intact. Gale, covered in dirt and blood, leaned against the gate as the defenders began tending to the wounded. Callie approached him, her crossbow slung over her shoulder.
"You alright?" she asked.
"Yeah," Gale replied, though his body ached from the fight. "That Splicer... it didn't feel random. It felt like they brought it on purpose."
Callie frowned. "You think the Red Claws are working with the Rift?"
"I don't know," Gale admitted. "But we can't ignore it."
Later that night, Gale studied the Splicer's remains. Its glowing veins were still faintly pulsing, a sickly blue light that sent shivers down his spine. Lirien joined him, her sharp eyes scanning the corpse.
"This mutation is different," she said. "More advanced than anything we've seen before."
Gale nodded. "The Rift's influence is spreading faster than I thought. If tribes like the Red Claws start weaponizing Splicers, humanity won't stand a chance."
Lirien placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then we'll have to stay one step ahead."
The next day, Gale gathered the leaders of Haven. They sat around a large table in the meeting hall, the tension from the previous battle still hanging heavy in the air.
"We can't just defend Haven," Gale began. "If we want to survive, we need to expand. Build alliances, fortify our resources, and share knowledge. The Rift isn't just Haven's problem—it's everyone's."
Marcus crossed his arms, his skepticism evident. "And how do you propose we do that? March out into the wasteland and hope people don't shoot us on sight?"
"No," Gale said. "We start with settlements we know are vulnerable. Offer them protection, resources, and a chance to join us. The stronger we are together, the better our chances against the Rift—and the Red Claws."
Callie chimed in. "It makes sense. We're stronger in numbers. And if we can teach other settlements how to fight Splicers, they'll stand a better chance."
Marcus sighed, rubbing his temples. "It's a risk, but it might be our only shot."
Over the following weeks, Gale led missions to nearby settlements. Some were cooperative, eager to join Haven's cause. Others were suspicious, their trust shattered by years of raider attacks and the horrors of the Rift.
One mission brought Gale and his team to a settlement called Ashridge, a small farming community nestled in the hills. The fields were scorched, the livestock slaughtered—a clear sign of a Red Claw attack.
The survivors were desperate, their leader a stern woman named Karis. She had short, dark hair and a scar running across her neck, the result of a failed execution during a Red Claw raid.
"We'll join you," Karis said, her voice firm. "But only if you help us take back what's ours."
Gale agreed, leading a raid on the Red Claw outpost that had stolen Ashridge's supplies. The battle was brutal, the Amplifier once again pushing Gale to his limits. But by the end of the fight, the survivors of Ashridge stood victorious.
As Haven's influence grew, so did the challenges. The Red Claws became more aggressive, their attacks more coordinated. Splicers appeared in greater numbers, their mutations becoming more advanced. Gale began to suspect that the Rift wasn't as dormant as he had hoped.
One night, as he stood atop Haven's walls, staring into the dark wasteland, he felt the Amplifier hum faintly. The stars above seemed to ripple, like the surface of a disturbed pond.
"It's not over," he whispered to himself. "The Rift is still out there."
Callie joined him, her presence grounding him. "You're not alone in this, you know," she said.
Gale glanced at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I know. But that doesn't make it any easier."
"We'll figure it out," Callie said. "One step at a time."
As the Rift's influence grew, and the battles with the Red Claws intensified, Gale knew that humanity's survival would depend on more than just fighting. It would depend on unity, resilience, and the hope that a broken world could be rebuilt.