It fled.
The world was reduced to motion, blurring shapes, and the deep, gnawing sense of danger. It had no name, no thoughts beyond the immediate. Only the rhythm of its heart pounding, the ragged pull of breath, and the raw pulse of primal fear surging through its body. The flame of unreasoning fear driving it forward. There was no past, no future, only the now, the frantic beat of existence.
It moved through the darkened wilderness, instinct driving it forward. The machine beneath it, a thing that rumbled, vibrated and meant nothing. It didn’t understand the way it moved, didn’t need to. It was the means of running, and that was all that mattered. The rumbling was just part of the noise that filled its head, like the rush of blood in its ears, like the pounding of its heart.
Shapes passed by, vague and meaningless. The trees, the rocks, the sky, all blurred together into a haze of obstacles. There was no understanding of what they were, only the need to avoid them, to swerve, to duck, to flee. The machine beneath it obeyed, responding to the slightest twitch of its hands as they gripped the handlebars. Its limbs were taut, rigid with the instinct to escape.
Its eyes flickered wildly, scanning the shapes around it for threats. The dark sky above, the earth below, all painted in shades of dim gray. There were no colors, no details. The sense of pursuit, the feeling that something was close, and it had to run!
The creature didn’t know what hunted it, couldn’t comprehend the nature of its fear. It only knew that something was coming. Sharp fangs, claws, hostile narrow eyes, hunger! The shadows themselves felt like teeth waiting to tear into flesh. It leaned forward, pressing itself lower against the machine, trying to disappear into the motion, trying to outrun the predators that chased from behind.
The rumble of the machine was its only companion, the sound blending into the noise inside its skull. Its legs ached, muscles burning from the strain, but it didn’t slow. It couldn’t. The fear was too great. Immediate, now, they chase, and it fled.
Then light shined through the morning haze.
A thin ray of warmth stretched over the horizon, a soft glow that touched the edges of its vision. At first, it didn’t register that light, not in any conscious way. But something inside the creature stirred. Its eyes blinked, slow and confused, as the sunlight reached its face, brightening the world in a way it hadn’t expected. The shadows receded; the blunt edges of fear dulled.
It blinked again, harder this time. The shapes around it had forming meanings, the trees, rocks, bushes all realigned from vague blurs into something more. The world around it was changing, becoming clearer, but it still didn’t understand.
The light continued to rise, flooding its vision in a brilliant beam of morning light. The warm touch of sunlight on its skin felt strange, foreign. The primal fear that had consumed it began to unravel. Its muscles loosened, its grip on the handlebars slackened.
And then… it all stopped.
I was… me. Max Wilson. My mind snapped back into focus like someone had flipped a switch, and suddenly, there I was, gripping the handlebars of the four-wheeler, tearing through the wilderness.
I slammed the brake pedals. The tires skidded in the dirt with a rasping sound of pebbles scattering beneath the wheels, and the machine lurched to a stop. Dust kicked up around me, settling slowly in the morning light. I sat there, frozen, hands still gripping the handlebars like a lifeline, my breath coming in uneven gasps.
“What… what just happened?” I muttered, my voice hoarse and foreign in my own ears.
My heart was slamming against my ribcage, but the terror was gone, replaced by confusion! Total, overwhelming confusion. I felt disoriented, like I’d just woken up from the worst nightmare imaginable, but the details were already slipping away. My thoughts scrambled, trying to piece together fragments that didn’t make any sense!
I recall clearly the sight of turbines. Massive turbines, a wind farm. And a fire… in the sky? Blue light? I blinked, shaking my head. There was no sense of these memories, just flashes of images in my mind, like pieces of a puzzle that wouldn’t fit together. I could barely grasp them before they slipped away, leaving me even more frustrated.
I climbed off the four-wheeler, my legs were shaky, the ground uneven beneath my boots and I was drenched in sweat. I needed to sit down and in front of me, a rock jutted out of the earth. I stumbled toward it, grasping it and sat onto its cold surface.
“What the hell happened…?” I whispered to myself, rubbing my temples like that would help jog my memory. It didn’t. I sat there on that rock, straining to remember. Something big had happened last night, something… bad. The turbines, the light, the fire… there was more, but it hovered out of reach, like trying to hold onto a dream that was vivid when dreamt but fading fast while awake.
Suddenly a face flickered into my mind, vague and half-formed. I had met someone… hadn’t I? But who? Who was it? The memory slipped away before I could catch it. I shook my head, frustrated. None of it made sense. Nothing felt real. It was as if the night had been wiped clean, leaving only fragments and just enough to unsettle me, not enough to make sense of it.
Then, my hunger and thirst hit. Hard. It felt like a fist to my gut, sharp and relentless. My mouth was dry, my throat parched. Every muscle screamed for food, for water. How long had it been since I last ate? Days? It felt like days, but that couldn’t be right. I stumbled up from the rock practically running to the little trailer my four-wheeler towed, tearing open the covers.
Everything was a mess in the trailer, I reached into the pack, hands fumbling for food and water. My fingers trembled as I pulled out my canteen and a ration pack. Without thinking, I gulped down the water, letting it flood my dry throat. I tore open the ration pack and shoveled the dry food into my mouth, jerky, dried fruit, whatever I could get my hands on.
It wasn’t until the canteen was nearly empty and most of the food was gone that I stopped just before tearing open another ration pack. Discipline, Max! I cursed myself, forcing my hands to stillness. I had almost devoured everything like an animal. I should know better.
The hunger was still gnawing at me, but I slowed down, taking a deep breath to calm the urge. I needed to ration the supplies, but it had been hard to stop myself. I knew I’d eaten too much, more than I should have. Guilt washed over me as I looked down at the half-empty pack.
“I’m probably going to regret that later,” I muttered, rubbing my stomach as the hunger began to fade only a little. But for now, at least, the gnawing emptiness of my stomach had subsided.
I sat down again onto the rock, rubbing my temples, trying again to make sense of the mess in my head. A dull, throbbing headache was forming, the kind that crawls from the base of your skull and settles behind your eyes. I looked around, taking in the jagged rocks, the scraggly trees clinging to the mountainside, and then down the steep incline I had been driving along.
I was halfway up a mountain!
“What… the… fuck?” I said to myself.
I blinked, as if that would change the view, but the stunning view of the valleys below and beyond didn’t disappear. The four-wheeler sat beside me, its engine still warm from the ride up, and it hit me: I had no idea how I got here. Not the slightest clue… it was all a blur. But here I was, on a damn mountain!
I shook my head again, come on, slapping my head with my hands! Me trying to push the confusion away. There wasn’t time to unravel the mystery right now. My headache pulsed again, but I forced myself to compartmentalize. Focus on what was real, on what I could control. I needed water that was real. If I didn’t find some soon, I was screwed.
I glanced at the tablet resting on the handlebars. With a rapid motion of movement, I grasped it and sitting my confused ass onto the rock again. I tapped and the map flickered to life, showing the path ahead, the same route I’d been following for days. My finger traced the trail up the mountainside. There had to be something nearby, a stream, a pond, anything. Nothing! Damnit!
I climbed back onto the four-wheeler, hooking the tablet back in and slowly maneuvered along the mountainside, eyes scanning for any sign of a water source. The terrain was rough, the path uneven and steep, but I pressed on, the sound of the engine humming as I followed the route the tablet had marked. I didn’t rush. Couldn’t afford to rush. If I pushed the four-wheeler too hard, it’d drain the battery faster, and I’d be stuck. Battery one was dead and battery two was at quarter away from being dead too.
It felt like forever, but after about an hour of zigzagging along the mountain path, something finally caught my eye. On a not too far side of the mountain, nestled in a small basin, was a stretch of water. A tarn, a small mountain lake, trapped by the rocky slopes around it, glinting blue in the sunlight.
“Oh, thank God! Water!” I exhaled, the tension easing from my shoulders as I saw it.
The battery still had about four more hours of juice left before it needed to sit under the sun and recharge. Plenty of time. I steered the four-wheeler toward the tarn, navigating the rocky terrain carefully, my heart lifted at the sight of it and more so the closer I got to it.
Luck and gentle fate, whatever God existed had smiled on me. The lake wasn’t far off my planned route, just barely close enough for me to reach without veering off course. I hadn’t expected it, but I was sure as hell wasn’t going to question it.
I finally reached the water, and it was even more beautiful up close than it had been from a distance. The tarn stretched out before me, its surface still and pristine, reflecting the blue of the sky above. The water looked cold, a crystalline blue, and it shimmered like something out of a dream. It was perfect. I could practically feel the cold relief soaking into my bones just from looking at it.
I pulled the four-wheeler to a stop just as the battery gave its last breath, the engine sputtering out and falling silent. Timing couldn’t have been better. I climbed off, feeling the fog of exhaustion mixed with relief settle over me.
The first thing I did was unload the wolf pelt. It stank like death after days in the sun, and I grimaced as I unfastened it from the roof of the four-wheeler. The hide was thick and matted, and the smell clung to it like a second skin. I set it down and quickly built a makeshift rack from some nearby branches and rocks, draping the pelt over it so the sun could bake out some of the smell.
With the pelt taken care of, I turned my attention to the four-wheeler. The solar panels needed to be set up so it could start recharging right away. I unpacked the panels from their storage compartment, unfolded them, and arranged them in the sunlight, angling them just right to catch the best of the sun’s rays. It would take all day and maybe into tomorrow to get a decent charge, but I didn’t have a choice. I plugged in an external battery to keep the tablet running, making sure everything was connected before checking the notes stored on it.
I scanned the tablet, making a mental list of what needed to be done while the four-wheeler charged. It was going to be a long stop. I’d have to settle in for the night, maybe even two, but it wasn’t like I had anywhere else to be. I found a good spot a few feet from the water’s edge and began setting up camp.
It took a while to unpack everything from the four-wheeler. I pulled out my rifle, checking it over before setting it aside within easy reach. Next came the fresh clothes I’d been itching to change into for days, placed them on the trailer top. Then I collected the firewood, which I stacked into a neat pile for later. I set up the tent near the water, just close enough to hear the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore.
Once everything was in its place, I stripped down completely. The filthy clothes I’d been wearing for weeks hit the cleaner ground in a venomous heap, and the feeling of fresh air on my skin was liberating. With a bar of soap in hand, I made my way to the water’s edge.
I didn’t hesitate. With a deep breath and a grin, I dove headfirst into the tarn, the cold water wrapping around me like a shock to the system. It was heavenly. The chill of the lake seeped into every muscle, every ache and pain, washing away the grime and exhaustion in one clean sweep. I swam around for a few moments, just letting the cold water carry me, feeling more alive than I had in days.
Finally, I settled at a shallow part of the lake, the water lapping around my waist as I lathered up the soap. I scrubbed myself down, every inch of my body relieved to be rid of the dirt and sweat that had caked itself on. The bar of soap slipped through my fingers as I worked, and the simple act of cleaning myself felt like the greatest luxury in the world.
I forgot everything, the journey, my struggles, new unknowns that still haunted my mind. It was just me, the water, the pristine mountains and the vast, empty sky overhead. Later after bathing and feeling totally clean, I stretched out on a patch of grass, sunbathing, the warmth seeping into my skin as I let my mind drift. It was peaceful. For the first time in weeks, I wasn’t running, hiding, afraid or angry. I was just here, basking under the sun, naked, clean, and in the middle of nowhere. I dosed, letting the tension melt away.
Then a movement caught my eye. I propped myself up still totally naked, scanning the landscape. A herd of deer had wandered into the tarn clearing. My heart hammered at the sight as I realized how hungry I was. There was dinner, right there, practically walking onto my plate. The herd of deer gathered at the edge of the tarn and began to drink, I thanked my lucky stars that I was downwind. Yes!
Slowly, carefully, I crawl on my belly toward my rifle that lay propped on the four-wheeler, just a few feet away. I moved with deliberate slow precision, my body remembering the countless lessons my grandfather had drilled into me. I grabbed the rifle, checking that it was loaded, yes loaded and ready. Then with patience I maneuvered slowly around again to face the deer. Steady breathing as I settled prone, resting the butt of the rifle to my shoulder and took careful aim, letting myself relax.
As I sighted down the barrel, something… changed. My vision sharpened in an instant, the world through the rifle’s scope zooming in except I wasn’t looking through a scope at all, iron sights. I was using my own eyes. My vision had literally focused in on the mare in the distance, like I was staring through binoculars, zooming in. The mare’s heart aligned to my sight, as if I could see it pumping beneath the skin, wait, I could see the heart pumping beneath the skin.
What the hell?
I didn’t have time to think. Instinct took over. I pulled the trigger, the rifle cracked, and sure enough, the shot landed right where I aimed. A perfect shot to the heart. The mare collapsed, dying instantly before it hit the ground. The rest of the herd ran off. I blinked, lowering the rifle, and let out a laugh. The adrenaline surged through me, excitement from the perfect shot. But then the laughter died in my throat.
How had I done that?
I stood up, rifle in hand, staring at the dead mare from across the tarn, which was about an eighty to a hundred-yard shot and replaying what had just happened. My eyes… zooming in? That wasn’t normal. I could still feel the way the world had come into focus, so sharp and clear, like a camera lens.
I tried it again, just to be sure. Focusing on the body of the mare, willing my eyes to do what they’d done before. Sure enough, the world zoomed in. I could see every detail of the dead animal, the rise and fall of its chest as life drained from it, I see the gush of blood draining from the gunshot wound.
"What the…" I muttered, stepping back, the rifle slack in my grip. "What the hell has happened to me?" I said to the silent world.
I felt the rising disquiet gnawing at the back of my mind, but I forced myself to focus. I needed to deal with the now first. Putting on my clean spare pants first, I slung the rifle over my shoulder and walked toward the mare.
More of the weight of my new reality crept into my mind with every step. When I reached the body, I grabbed its legs, expecting a mighty struggle to drag a two-hundred-pound mare back to camp. But when I pulled its legs, it came up with ease.
I froze.
That shouldn’t have happened. My muscles hadn’t even strained. Blinking in disbelief, I crouched down, hooked my arms under the mare’s legs, and lifted. One deadlift later, I had the entire weight of the animal slung over my shoulders. My legs moved steadily beneath me, and I walked back to camp, the beast's weight almost unnoticeable.
I shouldn’t be able to do this. This was too easy. But here I was, carrying a two-hundred-pound deer like it was nothing more than a heavy grocery bag. A deep sense of unease settled over me.
The fear kept rising, but I shoved it down. One thing at a time. I reached the edge of the tarn and set the mare down, I then spent the better part of the afternoon building a makeshift tripod hoist with large dead branches and rope from my supplies, suspending the beast near the shore of the tarn. I then swiftly cleaned the dear with my hunting knife as best I could with steady hands, rinsing the blood off in the water. My mind swirled with questions, but I had to focus on the task at hand.
By late midday, a chunk of the mare was roasting over a fire. I’d rigged a makeshift spit with some sticks and wire from my supplies, the smell of the roasting meat filling the air. Normally, I’d be satisfied with this kind of ideal hunt, and a soon to be eaten meal after days of starvation. But there was no satisfaction now. Just unease.
I kept thinking about what I’d done. The perfect shot, the effortless work that would have taken a normal human a day or more, the ease with which I’d set everything up. How I’d lifted a two-hundred-pound animal like it was a sack of potatoes.
I looked at the fire, the meat roasting over it, but my eyes drifted to a nearby boulder resting near the tarn. It was clearly large, very heavy, easily over three or four hundred pounds, but I had to know. I walked over to it, placed my hands under the edges, hugging the rock and then lifted.
The rock came up. My arms strained, but it was nothing compared to what it should have been. I held it for a minute, then dropped it with a thud, heart racing and I watched the ripples in the tarn the rock created. My breath came fast now, not from exertion but from forming fear. I needed to know how far this went. I looked at the tarn, then back at the camp.
Without thinking, I broke into a run, circling the water once, then twice, faster than I’d ever run before. When I reached the camp again after the third lap, I stopped, expecting to be winded, expecting the burn of muscles aching from exertion. Nothing. I didn’t even break a sweat. I stood there, panting not from the run but from the fear flooding through me.
I sat down near the fire, staring into the flames, turning over the meat, trying to make sense of it all. I wracked my brain, searching for any memory, any hint of what could’ve caused this. And then, like a flash, it came to me. Vague images, fragments of memory. Turbines… a fire in the sky… a light…
And a face. A someone. Then, a sentence, clear as day.
"You will hate me for this…"
The words chilled me to my core. I stared into the fire, trembling now, more afraid than I’d ever been. What had happened to me?
I sat by the fire, tearing into the meat with a hunger that felt insatiable. The first bite barely registered, and before I knew it, I had devoured the entire portion I'd cooked. I stared at the fire, feeling no sense of fullness. My stomach still growled as if I hadn’t eaten a thing.
I glanced at the mare, plenty of meat still left. I carved off another big hunk, carefully cleaning it, then skewered it over the fire. The fat sizzled, and the smell made my mouth water all over again. My body craved more, much more than it should.
As I waited for the second round of meat to cook, I remembered the jugs of water sitting beside the fire. I needed to refill them from the tarn and boil the water. A habit from my grandfather’s teachings, always purify your water before you drink, even if it looks clean. Too many microorganisms can kill a man as easily as any predator in the wilderness.
I grabbed the jugs and headed to the water’s edge, kneeling beside the tarn and filling them up. As I did, an odd thought crossed my mind. It was like a whisper in the back of my head. Test your sight again. Look deeper.
I frowned, hesitating for a moment before shaking it off. I focused on the water inside the jug. And just like before, my vision sharpened, zooming in unnaturally, focusing past the surface. I could see the tiny specks, the invisible world of microorganisms swimming just below the water’s surface. I could see the bacteria that, if left unchecked, would wreak havoc on my body.
My pulse quickened. This wasn’t right, this level of focus, this ability to see things no human eye should see. But something inside me stirred, something that wasn’t entirely me. Instinct took over again.
Stick your finger in the water.
The thought came unbidden, but my body obeyed. I dipped my finger into the jug, watching the microscopic life below. At first, nothing happened. Then, one by one, the tiny organisms began to shrivel and dissolve, as if some unseen force within me had wiped them out. I watched, mesmerized, as the water cleared, the danger within it disappearing. The bacteria that should have made me sick were now harmless, gone.
I pulled my finger out, staring at it in disbelief. And then, like before, the voice echoed in my head.
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"You will hate me for this..."
I froze, the whisper twisting through my thoughts like a knife. That voice, the same one I heard before, haunted me again. The fire crackled behind me, the meat roasting in the flames, but all I could think of was that voice.
“What did you do to me?”
I whispered the words under my breath, my hands trembling as I set the jug down beside me. Whatever was happening to me, whatever had been done, it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t natural. I stared at the fire, my mind racing, searching for answers in the flickering flames.
The next morning came, and though I hadn’t slept a wink, it didn’t matter. My body felt as though it had rested for days, charged with energy, sharper and more alert than I could ever remember feeling. I’d eaten nearly the entire mare throughout the night, roasting it piece by piece over the fire, savoring the meat until my hunger was finally, mercifully, satisfied.
Yet even as I sat by the dwindling fire, watching the embers fade with the morning light, my thoughts raced with the possibilities of what had happened to me. I wasn’t a natural human. My body wasn’t natural anymore. There was no denying it. My strength, my vision, my resistance to fatigue, hell, even the way my body processed its food was different.
Since my body was different and had that meant that I, was a different human being? Or possibly, maybe now, I was something more than human? Not human anymore? The unease at the back of my mind said, yes. Another part of me trembled at the implications for any possible truth of how or what is giving me these abilities.
I packed up the camp mechanically, my hands moving on instinct while my mind struggled to keep up with the flood of questions. There were no answers yet, but one thing was certain: I couldn’t stay here. The hideout was less than a day away now, and whatever had changed in me, whatever was happening, I needed to reach the safety of that place. Somewhere I could think without the threat of the unknown breathing down my neck.
I loaded the four-wheeler, strapping down the jugs of drinkable water and the few remaining supplies I had left. I packed away the portable solar panel. My body felt strong, almost eager to keep moving. I wasn’t just traveling anymore or fleeing. All I felt was a driven focus. The tarn sat quietly behind me as I left it, the serene waters undisturbed by the chaos in my mind. I didn’t look back. The hideout, the place my grandfather had prepared, was all that mattered now.
As I revved the engine, the four-wheeler hummed to life, and I tore away from the little lake, the wind rushing past me. The path ahead was clear and I had a direction; stay in the present, the now. Even if I had no idea what was waiting for me at the end of the now. The future beckoned.
By noon, I reached the edge of a forest, nestled high between the midway point of three mountains whose tips loomed over me. The air was thinner up here, crisp and cold despite the sun beating down. I stopped for a moment, taking in the sight of the dense trees ahead. The forest looked almost impenetrable, the towering pines packed tightly together, their thick trunks and sprawling branches blocking any path forward toward its center. I drove on.
The four-wheeler had taken me as far as it could, at the forests edge, sure enough the forest was too dense. I had no choice but to leave the four wheeler behind. The terrain was rough, the forest thick. There was no getting around it. With a heavy sigh, I dismounted and started unloading my gear.
The wolf pelt was tied around my waist in a bundle. The rifle, slung securely across my back, felt light for something I once struggled to carry for long periods. I had a couple of jugs of water, my canteen, and just a few ration packs left. Ammo belts crisscrossed over my chest, the hatchet and knife fastened in their sheaths on my belt. The big backpack on my shoulders, and the duffle bag strapped to it, should’ve weighed me down. Yet again I carried it all as if it were nothing. And that unsettling feeling gnawed at me again. The changes in me were undeniable. I adjusted the straps on my backpack, trying to get used to the weight, or rather, the lack of weight.
Without another glance at the four-wheeler that I had maneuvered part way into the forest and covered it up with dead branches, I turned toward the forest and began my trek into the unknown, my feet crunching on the fallen pine needles as I made my way deeper into the trees.
Hours later, twilight began, and I looked down at the tablet held in my hands, the screen flashed with a message I’d been traveling for: “Point reached.” Relief washed over me, but it was quickly replaced by something else entirely when I saw what lay ahead through the dense trees.
A clearing opened before me, and at the center of it stood a structure that went beyond anything I could’ve expected. I’d been anticipating a simple log cabin. An abode that was something modest, practical, maybe even a little run-down. But what I found instead was a miniature mansion. Wow…
It had the outward appearance of a cabin, sure, with logs stacked neatly and a thatched roof giving it that rustic charm. But it was more than that. A lot more. The building was expansive, larger than any mountain retreat I’d ever imagined. There was a great bulge at the back that looked to be the beginnings of a greenhouse, clearly meant for growing food year-round. The scaffolding was still in place for where glass panels would eventually be inserted, joining it seamlessly with the rest of the house. The glass panels must be stowed somewhere.
And that wasn’t even the most impressive part. The main structure itself was two stories tall, with thick wooden beams and a solid foundation that hinted at a basement below. Off to the side, there was an adjoining small workshop just large enough for me to tinker around with whatever I might need to survive out here. Tools, equipment, space to build or repair… everything I could possibly want.
Four towering pines framed the edges of the clearing, their branches swaying in the breeze. I could chop them down if I ever needed the wood, but for now, they stood like sentinels, guarding this hidden sanctuary.
This place was more than just a cabin. It was a tiny fortress, a haven against nture. My grandfather must’ve planned for every possible contingency when he built it. He always thought ahead, always prepared for the worst. And here, in the middle of nowhere, was the ultimate proof of that.
“Thank you, grandfather.” I said to the buildings.
I opened the front door, surprised to find it unlocked. It creaked slightly as it swung inward, revealing the interior of the mansion. The first thing that hit me was the smell, faint traces of wood polish and leather, the scent of a life that had once been lived here but had long since faded. My boots echoed against the hardwood floor as I stepped inside, taking in the plush surroundings.
Plush leather armchairs sat invitingly in the living room; their deep brown hue worn from years of use. They were arranged around a coffee table that held magazines from a time when people still cared about such things. In the corner, a sound system and an entertainment center stood like relics from a bygone era. The equipment was dated, but it was still in working condition.
I wandered deeper into the house and found a small server room tucked away in one of the side corridors. There were extra pieces of equipment stacked on shelves, backup switches, routers, and modems in case anything needed replacing. Grandpa had been meticulous with his preparations. He knew the importance of staying connected, even out here in the wilderness. Something that I would need to set up carefully and a very low priority.
Against one wall, a stack of computers hummed quietly, their screens dark for now but ready to run whatever programs he’d left behind. I could practically hear his voice: Always be ready. You never know when the world will come crashing down. He must’ve spent years building this place, filling it with everything he’d need to survive, to keep going. It was almost overwhelming to realize that it was all mine now.
Upstairs, I found even more of his handiwork. A library, lined with books, their spines cracked and faded. Some were about survival, others about philosophy, history, and science all of Grandpa’s passions. There was also a large stack of all his favorite fictional books. The master bedroom was spacious and comfortable, complete with a large bed covered in thick blankets. The equipment storage room was packed with gear, repair tools, steam powered generators, batteries, power cables, replacement solar panels and anything else I’d need to keep this place running.
Then there was the armory next to the master bedroom. Rows upon rows of guns, rifles, and ammunition filled the room, each piece neatly stored and labeled. This wasn’t just for show grandpa had prepared for anything. And now, so had I.
But the real discovery for me was the bathroom. A shower, a bathtub, a toilet, and a basin with actual running water. I stood there in awe for a moment, trying to figure out how that was managed. I was on top of a mountain, for God’s sake! There had to be a well drilled deep beneath the house, or maybe a tank filled to the brim with rainwater that had been collected over the years. Hell, it could’ve been both for all I knew.
I ran a hand over the cool porcelain of the sink, turning the faucet tentatively. The water gushed out, clear and cold. I laughed softly, the sound echoing in the empty house. This place was more than just a hideout, it was a self-sustaining fortress. My brilliant Grandpa had thought of everything.
I stood in the middle of the house, letting the joy of everything around me settle. The house felt like a living memory of my grandfather. Every detail, every object was a testament to his meticulous planning, his obsession with survival, plans and his love for family even if that family was just me now.
I dropped my duffle bag and backpack onto the hardwood floor, the thud echoing in the quiet room. The weight of it left my shoulders not aching, but the relief was instant. For the first time in what felt like weeks, I felt something close to peace. This place wasn’t just a hideout or a fortress. My new home was a sanctuary. A few tears spilled down my cheeks.
The afternoon light filtered through the tall windows, casting warm golden hues across the leather furniture and wooden shelves. I walked to the window and peered out at the forest that surrounded the cabin. The mountains framed everything in the distance, adding to the sense of isolation. I could hear nothing but the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant call of a bird.
I wandered back to the living room and slumped into one of the leather armchairs. The familiar creak of the leather as I sat down felt like an embrace, welcoming me home. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the ease and stillness wash over me. No more running, no more looking over my shoulder, at least for now. I wasn’t foolish enough to think I was safe forever. But at this moment, I could breathe. I let the moment have me and… back to work.
I rose again and started unpacking my gear. First, the essentials: rifle, ammo, knife, and my hatchet. I placed them in the armory, making sure everything was in order. I was certain there was food stored somewhere downstairs. I noted mentally that I’ll need to hunt for protein and aggressively so, due to my new dietary requirements.
While exploring further, I opened a door to what I thought was just a closet. To my surprise, it was a walk-in, complete with a set of tools for cleaning animals and preparing meat. Knives, scissors, hooks, chains and pulleys hung from the ceiling, clearly designed for handling larger game. There was even a large freezer unit tucked into the corner, switched off and clearly never used. Spare parts for repairs were stacked neatly on a shelf beside it, along with a note that two more were downstairs. Tools, screws, wires, all the things that would come in handy when something eventually broke down.
Next, I found food stores. Cans upon cans of preserved goods lined the shelves, along with stacks of ready-to-eat meals. But what really caught my attention were the MREs from France, the good ones. The kind of MREs only the French armed forces received, filled with gourmet options that put all other survival rations to shame. I couldn’t help but grin as I held one of the packages in my hands, wondering how my grandfather had managed to pull that off. He always had a way of getting the best, even in times like these.
Once the essentials were sorted, I retrieved the wolf pelt. It was mostly cured now, the last remnants of the stench fading. I set it up near the fireplace, a reminder of the life I’d taken to survive. There was something primal about it, something that connected me to the wild in a way I hadn’t felt.
The rest of the evening was spent settling in. I checked out the abode. The water systems, exploring the workshop next door, and unpacking my few clothes into the drawers upstairs, dumping the venomous dirty clothes into the washing machine. God for a hideout from the collapse of civilization I sure did have a lot of amenities.
I made sure to go over the solar panels and ensure everything was charging correctly, just in case I needed to make a return to the four-wheeler. It might be at the forest’s edge, but I still needed it for my future hunting expeditions. I’ll need to rig a wooden extension to the little trailer to haul my kills. Yep, there was a lot of work in my future.
By the time night fell, I was almost exhausted, though I didn’t feel it physically. My mind was running a mile a minute, racing with everything I’d seen and everything I’d done. I stood in the middle of the master bedroom, staring out the window at the stars overhead. They twinkled faintly against the backdrop of the night sky, reminding me of the vastness beyond this little bubble of safety.
I wasn’t ready to sleep yet. There was too much to process.
I made my way upstairs, intending to rummage through the library. There were a ton of books, most of them old survival guides and practical handbooks that my grandfather had collected over the years. But as I reached for one of the shelves, my hand brushed against a small box tucked in the back corner, hidden between a stack of leather-bound journals.
It was unassuming, a simple wooden box, the kind you’d barely noticed unless you were looking for it. I pulled it down, curiosity getting the better of me. The wood was smooth, worn from years of handling. I set the box on the table and, with a gentle lift of the lid, found something unexpected inside.
Chocolates. They were neatly packed, wrapped in foil, still in good condition, surprisingly preserved after all this time. Beside them lay a folded letter, the edges yellowed with age but the ink still legible. My breath caught in my throat as I unfolded the paper.
The handwriting was elegant, flowing in a way that seemed out of place and time in this rugged, isolated cabin. I read the first few lines, and it became clear that this was not just some casual note from a friend. It was far more personal.
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Mon cher Auguste,
It feels like an eternity since we last saw each other, but I think of you every day, my love. Every day, even now, I imagine your smile, your laughter that filled the halls of my family’s estate when you would visit. The years we spent together have been my happiest memories, the moments of love and warmth that carried me through the difficult days.
It breaks my heart to know that you are ill, that a cruel disease is taking you away from me and the world. I wish I could be there with you now, to hold your hand as we once held each other, to whisper sweet nothings that made you smile so brightly. But life has taken us down different paths, and while I may not be by your side in person, I am with you in spirit, always.
In the meantime, I send you these small comforts: chocolates, your favorite from our trips to Paris, cigars and whiskey as well. I know you’ll enjoy. Maybe a bit too much. Enjoy my people’s gifts especially, it is rations for soldiers like you.
Please know, no matter where life takes us, I will always love you, my dearest. Forever.
Yours, with all my heart,
Étienne
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I stared at the letter for a long moment, the words sinking in. Étienne. A man I had never heard of before, but clearly, someone my grandfather had been intimately connected with. More than just a friend. A love letter, one written with such care, such deeper emotion, that it almost felt like I was intruding on something very sacred. I felt slightly embarrassed and guilty for reading it.
It was strange, trying to reconcile the image of my rugged, no-nonsense grandfather. A man who had raised me, taught me everything I knew about life, survival, about hard work and resilience. Then to see him with this tender, vulnerable side of him. I had never known about this part of his life. Never even suspected.
I folded the letter carefully and placed it back in the box, closing it. I made my way downstairs, following my instincts that Étienne’s gifts were somewhere in my cabin. I found the cellar door hidden behind one of the larger bookcases in the living room. It creaked open with a bit of effort, I found a flashlight and I descended into the cool, musty darkness.
Sure enough, tucked away in a corner, was a large stockpile of various brands of whiskey. The bottles tucked into neat orderly rows, more than I could count. And I found the hundreds of cigars boxes, all in a self-sustained chamber. I chuckled to myself, imagining my grandfather stashing them away for a rainy day, or maybe as a reminder of the man he loved.
I grabbed one of the bottles and returned to the main room. Sitting back in the leather armchair by the fire I lit, I poured myself a glass I found in the small kitchen, the amber liquid catching the light of the flames. I took a sip, letting the warmth spread through me, soothing the lingering unease in my chest.
I raised the glass in a quiet toast. "To you, Étienne," I whispered, my voice barely audible in the stillness of the cabin. "And to you, Grandpa." Drinking in memory of two men who loved each other.
As I sat there, sipping the whiskey and watching the fire crackle, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of connection to my grandfather, to the life he had lived before me, the parts of him I had never known. The parts of him that, in some way, had shaped who I had become.
I didn’t know what the future held for me, or how I was going to deal with the changes I was experiencing. But for now, in this moment, with the warmth of the whiskey and the crackle of the fire, I felt… peace.
Later that night, I found myself on the small porch on the second story, a place just large enough for an armchair, but I chose to stand. The air was cool and crisp, and the stillness of the night brought a calm that seemed to seep into my bones.
The house was quiet behind me, everything dimly lit and powered up after I’d found the generator and solar battery grid, all set for the morning. I was finally tired, after two days without rest, my body finally surrendered to the need for sleep.
As I was about to turn away and head to bed, something caught my eye in the sky, a faint, glimmering streak of light. A satellite, perhaps. Nothing unusual in that, but something made me pause. I leaned against the porch railing and stared up at the streak cutting across the stars, a quiet sentinel floating far above the Earth.
On impulse, I squinted, and without thinking, I allowed my sight to zoom in. Just like with the mare earlier, my vision sharpened unnaturally, bringing the distant satellite into crystal-clear focus. The realization of what I was doing hadn’t even hit me when a notification appeared in the corner of my sight, glowing faintly beside the object I was looking at.
Unknown Orbital Object
Height: 560 miles
Speed: 17,500 mph
Probable enemy asset: 98.9%
I blinked, stepping back in shock, my heart hammering in my chest. A wave of disbelief surged through me. What the hell was this? How was I seeing this? How was I even processing it?
My gaze snapped back to the sky, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I hadn’t just seen the satellite with my eyes… I’d analyzed it, identified it with information that no normal human would be able to discern. And the words "Enemy asset" echoed in my mind.
Enemy?
I stood there frozen, staring up at the satellite as it streaked across the sky, the notification still floating beside it in the corner of my vision until it vanished, the notification blinking out. Something had happened to me, something beyond anything I could explain.
My heart raced as my mind reeled from the confirmation. My new physical abilities and the uncertainly it gave me had yawned open beneath me, again, a bottomless hole of unknowns. Whatever had been done to me wasn’t just altering my body, it was reshaping the very way I interacted with the world.
I stood frozen on the small porch, the cool air now biting into my skin as my mind raced. The satellite continued its steady path across the sky, the notification still lingering in my vision. With a deep breath, I scanned the skies, my mind too restless to let it go.
I focused again, looking for more, not quite believing what I had just seen. My eyes sharpened once more, locking onto another satellite. And again, the same type of notification appeared:
Unknown Orbital Object
Height: 35,100 kilometers
Speed: 7,700 meters per second.
Probable enemy asset: 96.3%
I continued searching. Each time I locked onto a satellite, the information poured in. Data, cold, hard numbers, descriptions, confirming my worst fears. It wasn’t just a one-off event. There were multiple satellites, and they were all being flagged as potential enemy assets.
I had no idea who or what this enemy was, but it didn’t matter. The implications were clear: I was seeing the world through new, enhanced eyes, and something inside me was feeding me information I had no business knowing.
The satellites eventually disappeared from view, and I looked beyond them, my eyes drifting toward the stars. I didn’t expect anything out of the ordinary, just the usual brilliance of the night sky. But then, it happened again. Terror blossomed in my mind along with the appearing notifications.
"Star: Vega, Status: Contested."
"Star: Altair, Status: Heavily Contested."
"Star: Deneb, Status: Friendly."
"Star: Antares, Status: Friendly."
"Star: Fomalhaut, Status: Occupied."
"Star: Capella, Status: Destroyed."
My gaze lingered on Altair, something about the words "heavily contested" pulling me in. I squinted, and suddenly, more detailed information appeared in my vision, like I had accessed some hidden database lodged in my brain.
A seven-page report of a ongoing conflict appeared in my vision, I sat onto the porch, cross legged. I read it all the while my heart rate rising. Civilians Trapped? A ground war? Seventeen fleet engagements!
Altair wasn’t just a distant star anymore. It was a battleground, alive with conflict. The same was happening across all those stars. I let my eyes drift back to the other stars, noting their statuses without digging deeper. The stars themselves were part of some larger conflict, a… war… a galactic war.
“Us… what about us?” I asked myself.
A terrible thought formed in my mind, the kind that twists my gut and sent a chill down my spine. I squeezed my eyes shut and, with a deep breath, a thought: Show me the status of the Solar System. Show me Earth. Present position.
As if responding to my silent command, faint arrows appeared in my vision, aligning with the direction of the sun. I turned toward the darkened horizon where the sun had set hours ago, and as my gaze settled on its outline below the horizon, more information appeared, lines of text that made my heart race with dread.
My breath caught in my throat as more data flooded in, structured like a military report, clean and efficient, yet dripping with horrific implications.
* Star: Sol
* Star Type: G2V (Main Sequence Star)
* Distance from Current Position (Earth): 0 light-years
* System Status: Fully Occupied by Xi Forces
* Enemy Presence:
* Xi Orbital Fleet: Fleet elements minimal, all forces committed elsewhere.
* Planetary Presence: Xi Ground Forces entrenched on Earth, Venus, and Mars. All major outposts secure. Oorte cloud laced with long range sensors.
* Xi Command: Offshoot Xi Nexus AI. Overseeing full planetary occupation from hidden location on third planetary body.
* Human Resistance: Minimal, fragmented cells on Earth, no confirmed interplanetary activity.
* Additional Notes: Enemy operations and infiltrator elements engaged in active extermination protocols of local species, human, 38.8% complete.
My chest tightened. Earth was occupied. The idea seemed unfathomable, yet there it was, staring me in the face in cold, clinical terms. I fought back panic, forcing myself to focus. There had to be more… details on Earth. I concentrated harder, summoning every ounce of focus I had. Give me more!
Third Planet: Earth
Status: Occupied by Xi
Present Operations: SOC-ISPD engaged with enemy elements. Active combat zone.
The acronym SOC-ISPD stood out, and I pushed for details, my mind trembling at the effort.
Special Operations Command, Innocent Species Preservation Division
Mission Directive:
Issued by Alliance High Command, 98 Earth years ago.
Objective: Protect indigenous species unable to mount sufficient defense against the Xi threat.
Species in Threat Focus: Homo sapiens, humans.
The first wave of ISPD units deployed to third planetary body: Earth, following confirmed reports of infiltration by Xi forces.
Initial mission parameters: entrench, supply training, weapons and cultivate resistance elements of local species. Provide leadership and information as needed. Foster organization of local forces for effective resistance. Defend and holdout.
Total ISPD Units Deployed (To Date): 42 waves:
Confirmed Casualties: 5,903 KIA, 892 MIA, 23 POW
Total Expected Units (Inbound): 43rd wave inbound, ETA: 1 year, 2 months.
Situation Report:
42nd wave Unit reports current situation as escalated, Nanoplast supply nearly depleted, untenable disposition of forces, enemy action near unimpeded. Human forces decimated in recent engagements. Resistance cells are active, but severely compromised. Reinforcements requested urgently.
ISPD outposts under siege:
* Los Angeles
* Hong Kong
* Tokyo
* Moscow
* Berlin
Warning: Information out-of-date. Communications disrupted.
“Fuck…” I said weakly.
The planet wasn’t just occupied by a random invading force. Earth was part of some larger war effort. One that involved an entire division of alien military forces tasked with protecting us and maybe others from the Xi. And we were losing!
The term Innocent Species Preservation gnawed at me. One side saw us not as warriors, soldiers, or even participants in this war. We were a species to be saved, like some fragile creature on the verge of extinction. Then the Xi… they wanted to kill us and have been trying to, for almost a hundred years? A lot of recent events these last two decades made sense now… The energy crisis, the human free zones, World War Three that happen forty years ago, and even the ultra-covid plague of 2034 that happened decades before I was even born…
“We’re being exterminated.” I whispered to the stars.
I was fighting against a creeping sense of hopelessness as I tried to process everything. My vision blurred as I thought of the cities; Los Angeles, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Moscow all active combat zones where people were fighting for their lives, maybe even dying right now. Or worse, based on this information, that is outdated information. I could be looking at a past status report, a past failure report. It could be worse now.
I tried, once again, to remember what had happened that night days ago. The blue light, the turbines, a barely seen face. Only fragments, incomplete pieces of a larger puzzle that refused to come together. I could almost grasp it, outside all my thoughts and with a heavy sigh, I resigned myself to the truth. Something had been done to me, and whatever it was, it had changed me forever. I couldn’t deny it any longer. The vision zooming, the strength, the hunger, and now this… this ability to scan the sky and see things no human should be able to see.
I turned away from the sky, my head spinning with questions and no answers. With a slow, weary step, I slipped back inside the house, the warmth of the cabin wrapping around me like a comforting embrace.
I made my way to the master bedroom and climbed onto the bed, the weight of everything pressing down on me as I pulled the blankets over my body. My mind continued to race, replaying the events of the day and the night before, trying to make sense of the madness that had become my life. But all I could think of was that one word: enemy.
My last thoughts before sleep took me were of a face I couldn’t quite recall, and a voice that echoed in the back of my mind.
"You will hate me for this..."