“Yes—” I’m immediately cut off by Johnny’s ecstatic fist-pumping.
“Now that’s what I like to hear!” he says, pumping his fists. “So, this is what we’re going to do—”
“Shut up.”
Blake’s voice slices through the air like a whip.
Johnny freezes, his mouth hanging open mid-sentence.
“Your plan,” Blake continues, “will be heard last.”
Yup.
As much as I like the guy, relying on his this-is-my-time-to-shine attitude is a terrible idea. Enthusiasm is great—until it gets us all killed. We don’t need risk. We need survival.
Blake scans the group. “Alright, listen up. If anyone has an idea that isn’t pure fantasy, now’s the time.”
Before I can raise my hand—
“I’ll go first,” the officer says.
Very well. I lean back against the tree and listen.
“What do we do when we’re stuck in a hostile environment with no means of escape?” he asks, then answers his own question. “First and foremost, we remain calm and assess the situation. We’ve done both already.”
The group nods along. That much is true.
“The next step,” Blake continues, “is to secure our basic needs. Water, shelter, fire, and food. As much as I’d like to have a system—so I can be strong enough to fight like Johnny boy claims here—my basic needs come first. I can’t roam around this vast jungle searching for monsters without water or fire.”
He’s got a point.
Blake gestures at the trees. “We’re in a forest. That means there’s water somewhere. A river, a stream, maybe even a pond. We find it. Second, we need fire—for warmth, for cooking, and most importantly, for protection. It keeps predators away. That should go without saying.”
Everyone nods.
Blake nods back. “Good. Shelter is next. We need a place to rest that’s defensible. We don’t sleep out in the open, waiting for something to pick us off.”
Murmurs of agreement spread through the group.
Johnny huffs. “Okay, sure. Basic survival is important. But we also need to complete the quest. Otherwise, we never get the system, and we’ll just be… sitting ducks forever.”
Blake exhales. “That’s why we do both.” He turns to me. “We need to figure out what counts as a monster. Any ideas?”
How am I supposed to—You know what, fine.
I roll my shoulders. “The eagles might’ve been too much for us, but that doesn’t mean everything is. There could be smaller creatures, weaker ones.”
Johnny perks up. “Exactly! Think about it—every game has low-level enemies, right? Rats, slimes, goblins—”
“This isn’t a game,” Blake says flatly.
“Yet we have a quest,” Johnny shoots back. “With a timer. And rewards. If that doesn’t scream ‘game rules,’ I don’t know what does.”
Blake presses his lips together. He doesn’t like it, but he can’t argue with it either.
I push off the tree. “We don’t have to fight yet. We scout first. Find out what’s out there—both the monsters and the supplies we need. Once we know what we’re dealing with, we act.”
Blake considers it for a moment, then nods. “Agreed.” He looks over the group. “Alright. We split into two teams. One searches for water and shelter. The other scouts for threats and… potential monsters.”
I raise a hand. “Petition to add a common objective for both teams?”
Blake frowns. “What?”
“We need to find Josh,” I say.
A ripple of murmurs spreads through the group. Confused glances are exchanged.
“Josh?” someone echoes. “Who’s Josh?”
I point at the man sitting two trees away, his small frame slumped against the bark. He hasn’t spoken in a while, but his expression says it all—hopelessness, fear, guilt. His ankle, once swollen, looks fine now. The unnatural bend to the right, though? Not fine. Not at all.
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“His kid,” I explain. “When everything went to hell, he told Josh to run into the forest and hide. The boy hasn’t come back.”
The man flinches at my words but doesn’t look up.
Blake presses his lips together, thoughtful. “How old?”
“Eight,” I say. “Small. Scared. Alone.”
The weight of that settles in the air.
Someone swears under their breath. A woman puts a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.
Blake exhales sharply, rubbing his temples. He looks at the father. “And you’re sure he ran into the forest?”
The father flinches at the question, but nods. “I told him to hide. He should’ve come out by now. He should have.” His voice cracks on the last word.
Silence.
Blake’s jaw tightens. I can see it—the calculation, the cold math running through his head. A kid. Alone. In a world we don’t understand. A world with monsters. The odds? Bad. Probably worse than bad.
He knows it. We all do.
He shifts his weight, gaze flicking between the father, the trees, the group. I catch a few uneasy glances, people waiting, hoping he’ll be the one to say it: The kid’s already gone.
For a second, I think he might.
But then the father’s hands clench over his knees, knuckles white. He doesn’t plead. He doesn’t beg. He just sits there, hunched over, like he already knows what Blake is about to say.
Blake exhales through his nose, sharp and controlled. When he speaks, his voice is firm. Decisive.
“Alright. Finding Josh is a priority. Both teams keep an eye out.”
The father lets out something between a gasp and a sob, hands gripping his knees. He nods over and over, like if he stops, the moment will shatter.
I nod back. “Then let’s move.”
Blake claps his hands together, redirecting attention. “You heard him. We find the kid. We find water. We find shelter. And we figure out what we’re dealing with.” He pauses. “We do not engage anything unless we have no other choice.”
A collective nod.
Blake looks at me. “You’re on the scouting team.”
Figures.
“Fine by me.”
He gestures to the group. “Alright, move out.”
The group starts organizing, tension shifting from fear to focus. We don’t have a plan that guarantees survival. Hell, we don’t even know what we’re up against.
But at least we’re doing something.
.
.
.
The scout team was handed to me. I was told to lead.
I didn’t want to lead. Because I can’t lead. But I also can’t drop my life into someone else’s hands. Nope.
So I agreed.
Then I thought—well, at least now I get to pick my own team. The fit and strong, the ones who could run, fight, survive.
Yeah. No. That didn’t happen.
Instead, they chose themselves.
And now I’m stuck with this.
Scout Team Roster:
- Me. Obviously. The fittest. The only one who actually should be here.
- Violet. The black-haired, purple-eyed woman that gave me a cuddle. Quiet, observant. She chose this. Why? Because her granny’s dog can track us if needed. Smart, actually.
- Johnny. Because of course he’s here. Wants his system activated ASAP. Honestly, I saw this coming.
- Dave. Johnny’s friend. Thankfully, not another geek. A normal guy. Chill. Not the worst pick.
- Becky. Young, ashen-haired woman. And the one most worried about Josh after his own father. Came along just to find the kid. Also claimed she’s lucky. Whatever that means.
- Russel. Late thirties. Business suit. Not the most fit, but second fittest—out of a group that barely qualifies. He joined because no one else would.
I exhale through my nose, pinching the bridge.
Five people. Plus me.
And the other seventeen? Yeah, they went to search for shelter.
I know exactly why.
Blake. And his gun.
Seventeen people. Seventeen bullets. It would save them all, right? No problems.
Idiots.
I sigh, rolling my shoulders. “Alright,” I mutter to myself. “Let’s get this over with.”
I watch as Blake leads his team deeper into the forest, his voice carrying as he gives orders. Mark the trees. Track your path. Find your way back by noon for regrouping.
Smart.
I glance at my phone, instinct kicking in.
Dead.
Shit. Right. No charger in another world. I don’t even wear a watch, so—
I turn to Russell. “What time is it?”
The man glances at his wrist, an old watch, then answers, “9:47.”
Alright. Little over two hours until regroup. Plenty of time.
Johnny looks at me, still practically bouncing on his feet. “So, which way do we go?”
I don’t know where he gets this much enthusiasm. We’re literally walking toward what could be our deaths.
I exhale. “Alright, whose phone still works? We need a compass.”
They check. One by one.
All dead.
At the same time?
“I swear mine had full charge,” Becky mutters, pressing the power button repeatedly, her frustration growing. Nothing.
Great. Just great.
So Vivian kills anything electric. Good to know.
“Well, everyone grab a rock,” I say, already scanning the ground.
Takes me seconds to find two—flat, jagged, solid enough to cut. Perfect.
I step to the nearest tree. Scrrrk.
A rough arrow takes shape, pointing forward. Below it, another—pointing back. Crude. Uneven. But clear enough to follow.
Good enough.
I toss the second rock to Russel.
“Mark the path like I did. Every tree you cross. That way, you’ll always know your way back.”
Russel catches it one-handed. Tests the edge with his thumb. Nods. Then he steps up to the tree and carves his own set of arrows—sharper, cleaner than mine. One forward. One back.
The others watch. Then follow.
Johnny first. Then Becky. Then Dave. Then—
Violet.
Six sets of arrows, layered atop each other. Simple. Effective.
At least now, we won’t get lost.
Hopefully.
“Alright,” I say, dusting rock powder from my hands. “We move in a horizontal line. Stay in each other’s sight. Slow and quiet. No shouting for Josh. Look for small footprints. If anything feels off, we stop.”
A chorus of nods.
Violet steps up beside me, her gaze sweeping the trees. “And if we run into something?”
We need to run into something. Have to.
“Depends,” I say, gripping my rock a little tighter. “If it's friendly, we say hi. If it’s not—” I glance at Johnny. “We run. Fast.”
Johnny groans. “What if it’s weak? What if we can take it?”
“Then you go ahead and punch it, Johnny,” Dave deadpans.
Johnny grins. “Bet.”
Violet sighs. “We should have a plan for worst-case scenarios.”
“Fine,” I say, scanning their faces. “If we run, we meet back here. If we get separated—well, we’re probably dead—but still, try to regroup at the clearing. No heroics, no dumb risks.”
No one looks thrilled. In fact, Dave and Russel look like they’d rather be anywhere else. But one by one, they nod.
“Good,” I say, adjusting my stance. “Then let’s go.”
One last glance at the clearing—the only familiar thing in this godforsaken world.
Then, I take the first step into the trees.
The forest swallows us whole.