Into the woods

Jiro and his small band of survivors moved as quickly as their exhausted legs could manage through the rubble-strewn streets. The sound of the mutated horde pursuing them urged them onward. They dashed into an empty office building barely ahead of the mob, barricading the door.

"We can't run forever," Jiro gasped, scanning his ragged comrades. Their weapons were pitifully inadequate against the teeming mass controlled by the alien hivemind Prota. No reinforcements were coming. The city was lost.

A thunderous pounding came at the door as infected bodies hurled themselves against it. The barricade groaned under the relentless assault.

"They'll break through any minute," Jiro said, reloading his Vindicator rifle. "The only way out is down through the sewers. Let's move."

One by one, they lowered themselves into the fetid tunnels. Guided by flashing sticks, they sloshed through dripping effluent for hours until finally reaching a drainage grate offering escape.

Hauling themselves out into overgrown parklands, they hastily put distance between themselves and the nightmare city. Jiro tried raising Command but got only static. They were completely alone.

As the sun sank low, they took shelter beneath a sprawling oak. Strange sounds drifted on the wind - skittering, shrieking, gibbering. Jiro's skin crawled at the unnatural noises.

Taking turns standing watch, they slept fitfully with weapons in hand. When Jiro's shift came, he studied the shadows between the trees and weighed their options. Continuing north seemed their only hope of reaching remote settlements rumoured to survive in the valleys. But it was a dangerous gamble.

A twig snapped in the darkness. Jiro swivelled his rifle toward the sound. A husky voice called out, "Whoa there, no need for that. Name's Ruka."

A powerfully built, bearded man emerged with hands raised. An unfamiliar energy rifle was slung over his shoulder.

Jiro kept his Vindicator aimed warily. "You're human?"

"Last I checked," Ruka said with a laugh. "Heading north, eh? Smart move. Ain't nothing left down south but them crawlers."

Jiro lowered his rifle slightly. "I'm Jiro. We just escaped the city. What's your story? Where'd you get that hardware?"

"Like I said, name's Ruka," he repeated. "Just a park ranger from up north. And this here is a Volt Driver, courtesy of the Cassou Armory."

"Cassou?" Jiro asked, raising an eyebrow. "Never heard of it."

"Not surprised. We're a hidden community past the Ankari Range. Gotta stay off Prota's radar to survive."

Jiro considered this stranger's offer warily. But what choice did they have?

"We need food, water, shelter," Jiro said bluntly. "Can your village provide that?"

Ruka nodded. "You folks look to beat all to hell. C'mon back with me. Cassou's got plenty of provisions and defenses."

Jiro turned to his exhausted team. Alone, they wouldn't last long. Ruka's offer of sanctuary was their only option, even if it proved a trap.

"Alright, we'll follow you," Jiro said, "but no tricks, or else."

As dawn broke, they set off behind Ruka. Jiro watched their path carefully as they hiked, alert for signs of the horde. Ruka chose a winding course through the woods with assurance.

Along the way, Jiro learned more about their guide. Ruka was part of an elite scouting order who patrolled the wilderness around Cassou. He was one of the few survivors after Prota's emergence had forced them to retreat.

"Prota and his creepers wiped out whole towns trying to find us," Ruka explained. "But the forests are dense. They still haven't located Cassou."

"How've you held them off?" Jiro asked. "We couldn't stop Prota's conquest."

Ruka gave a knowing smile. "Prota's got power, sure. But we got surprises too. Wait till you see the Armory."

Jiro nearly stopped in his tracks. "The Armory? You have weapons to fight them?"

"Like I said, just wait," Ruka replied.

The thought of an arsenal gave Jiro's tired mind a surge of optimism. Perhaps Cassou did have a means to strike back.

They trekked over increasingly rugged ground for two more days, hiding signs of their passage from zombie hordes. Jiro grew impressed by Ruka's skillful navigation.

At last, they crested a wooded ridgeline. Ruka pointed down to a green valley sheltered between soaring, snow-topped peaks.

"There she is. Cassou."

Jiro gazed at the settlement of log buildings and thriving fields along a clear river. Guard towers and high-tech fences ringed the outskirts. Whatever Cassou was, it had taken great care to stay hidden.

Descending into the valley heartened Jiro's spirit. Here, isolated from Prota, was a pocket of defiant humanity still living free.

Ruka led them through a guarded checkpoint, where sentries simply waved them through after a nod from him. Inside Cassou's tidy gravel roads, Ruka brought them to a large common hall.

Jiro met with the community leaders - the mayor, sheriff, and elders. He recounted his squad's harrowing escape, hoping to win their trust. In turn, they shared how Cassou had avoided detection through secrecy and guarding the mysterious Armory.

"What is this Armory exactly?" Jiro finally asked.

The sheriff, a white-bearded elder named Tolman, answered: "It's our legacy and our only advantage. The Armory provides tools to combat Prota's forces. Advanced weapons and tech recovered from... That Which Must Not Be Named."

Jiro furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "That Which Must Not Be Named?"

The sharp-eyed mayor, Kira, elaborated: "The Armory's full history is secret. But yes, we possess relics from a place our ancestors sealed long ago, after disturbing something...ancient."

Jiro shook his head, realizing he had stumbled into deep mysteries. But one thing was clear - Cassou was more than it seemed. So was Ruka.

Kira offered food, rest, and a chance to recover before Ruka took them to the Armory. For the first time in ages, Jiro's team had real shelter, hot meals, and the beginnings of a plan.

After days of desperate survival, Jiro finally allowed himself to feel hope again. Not just hope of living, but daring to dream they could defeat Prota.

..........................

Jiro joined Ruka for a walk around Cassou the next day, taking stock of the town and its folk. He was struck by the sense of order and productivity. People traded goods, tended livestock, and maintained buildings - living fully, not just surviving.

In the square, children played joyfully under the watch of elders. Their laughter seemed alien to Jiro after so long hearing only cries of slaughter.

"Hard to believe, eh?" Ruka said, noting Jiro's interest. "Our little oasis of peace in the middle of hell on earth."

Jiro nodded. "It reminds me what we're fighting for. And what's been lost."

They passed tidy cottages with flower beds and cosy yards. Jiro was struck by the continuity and roots these people possessed - something he had barely known.

"How've you stayed hidden this long?" Jiro asked.

Ruka shrugged. "The mountains give us natural barriers. And Armory tech lets us scramble any drones that come snooping."

He pointed toward the palisade and guard towers on the north end of town. "Our lookouts control the valley exits. We got motion pulse cannons covering every approach. Anything moves nearby, we know about it."

Jiro studied the defences as they walked. Cassou's isolation and early alert measures were ideal. Its residents could focus on living, not just holding on.

Townsfolk waved and greeted Ruka by name. He had deep ties here.

"You seem well known," Jiro observed.

"My family helped settle Cassou generations ago," Ruka said. "It's home, and I aim to keep it safe."

Jiro pondered Ruka's sense of connection and community. It reminded him what the rest of the world had lost to Prota's horrors.

Outside town, workers tended orderly irrigated fields and processing shops - Cassou's self-sufficient backbone. Despite constant vigilance, these people had carved out meaningful lives. Jiro wondered if normalcy could take root again elsewhere.

Ruka interrupted his thoughts. "Think you'll get used to a quiet corner like this?"

Jiro breathed deep, taking in the valley's tranquillity. Children laughed as they scurried home for supper.

"I think we could," Jiro said. "If we put an end to Prota."

Ruka firmly gripped his shoulder. "Tomorrow, brother. Tomorrow we start pushing back."

Jiro felt his spark of hope grow brighter. Allowing himself to imagine, however briefly, life after Prota.

...........................

The next morning, Jiro's squad joined Ruka and a phalanx of Cassou's elite scout rangers for the hike to the mysterious Armory. They marched in disciplined order, constantly scanning for threats.

Their path climbed steadily into the craggy foothills flanking the valley. Jiro noted the increasing altitude and tree line.

"Where exactly is this Armory?" he asked Ruka, who seemed at home in these mountains.

"Up ahead, at the old lithium mine," Ruka said over his shoulder. "It's carved deep into the ridgelines, easy to fortify and hide."

As they navigated switchbacks, Jiro considered what sort of 'relics' this place might contain. Were they scavenged weapons? Or something more?

Rounding a boulder-strewn slope, the mouth of the mine came into view - a dark crevice flanked by camouflaged lookouts who saluted Ruka and his squad.

Inside, motion-activated lights flickered on, illuminating the chiselled rock walls and timber ceiling supports. Their footfalls echoed through the damp chill.

"This way," Ruka said, making several turns before halting at a massive steel vault door marked only with a numerical keypad. He punched in a code, producing a series of heavy clunks as locks disengaged.

"Are you ready to see how we take the fight to Prota?" he asked.

The door ponderously swung open, and they stepped into a space that made Jiro gasp. Before them lay racks of exotic firearms, armour, power units, and other gear utterly unfamiliar to him. Anything seemed possible with such technology.

"Welcome," said Ruka, "to the Armory."

...............

Jiro walked the Armory aisles slowly, fascinated by the mysterious contents. Ruka followed, explaining each item.

"Here we got plasma casters. Over there, disruptor grenades. That big rig is a harmonic projecting cannon for scattering Prota's swarms."

Jiro paused to examine a sleek rifle with intricate symbol engravings along its silvery barrel.

"And this?"

Ruka nodded appreciatively. "An Argon pulse rifle. Top of the line. Drops creepers at 300 yards, no problem. You'll be getting one of your own soon enough."

Jiro could scarcely wrap his mind around such advanced arms. "Where does it all come from?"

Ruka's expression turned solemn. "That's askin' about things best left buried."

Jiro didn't press the matter. The Armory's origin was a guarded enigma.

They passed racks of matte armour plates able to stop kinetics and absorb radiation. Then rows of the Volt Driver units Ruka carried, along with bandoliers glowing with heteroclite energy cores.

At the back stood towering cylindrical capsules. Ruka led Jiro to one with a wave of his hand.

Jiro peered through the thick quartz glass. Inside, immersed in a viscous blue fluid, was a humanoid creature - but no human. Jiro recoiled involuntarily. The thing appeared insectoid, but withrecognizably intelligent features.

"I know, not a pretty sight," Ruka said. "This is what we're up against. Why we've got to fight Prota with everything we've got."

Jiro looked at him intently. "What is this...being?"

Ruka's jaw tightened. "All I can say is the enemy of my enemy is my friend. These relics give us an advantage, if we have the guts to use 'em."

Nodding slowly, Jiro studied the immobile creature. He thought suddenly of Prota's vast armies assimilating the landscape. To have any hope of victory, no sacrifice was too unthinkable.

"When do we start training?" Jiro asked.

Ruka grinned. "Right now, brother. Right now."

....................

Jiro spent the next week training intensely with Ruka and the scout rangers on mastering the Armory's arsenal. He practised moving in lightweight but resistant armour, wielding exotic rifles and grenades through obstacle courses and simulations.

In each session, he grew more confident in the incredible power at their disposal. Cassou's defenders were masters at utilizing the relics' capabilities. Now, Jiro began to feel like one of them.

Late one evening, Jiro shared a meal with Ruka beside a crackling fire. Above, the valley glinted under this first break in storm clouds after days of rain.

Tomorrow, recon teams would venture beyond the mountains to gather intel for a counterattack against Prota's strongholds. It was a risky first step, but one Ruka seemed eager to take.

"Once we start hitting those crawler hives, Prota's gonna take notice," he said between bites of venison. "But we'll be ready this time."

Jiro nodded, turning his upgraded Argon pulse rifle in his hands. "With these gifts, we can take the fight anywhere. We just need to find Prota's heart."

Ruka poked the fire absently. "My grandpappy used to say evil hides deepest in the shadows. We'll shine a light Prota can't endure."

They sat quietly for a time, watching the flames. Jiro felt closer to Ruka after their ordeal and training together. Here at the end of the world, they would soon risk everything, side by side.

At last, Jiro broke the silence. "You gave us a home when we had none. I can't ever repay that, but I swear I'll fight to my last breath to protect it."

Ruka clasped Jiro's forearm firmly. "I know you will, brother. Cassou is your home now too. That's all the repayment I need."

In Ruka's steady gaze, Jiro saw the trust and hope that Prota sought to extinguish, but never could. Not as long as brave hearts still dared to dream.

They turned together back toward Cassou's twinkling lights. In the days ahead, Jiro knew, they would need to muster every ounce of courage those lights inspired.

The battles were coming.

But in this place, with these stalwart people, Jiro believed victory was possible. For the first time, he allowed himself to envision life beyond the long nightmare.

Whatever Prota's true nature, it would never conquer what Ruka, Cassou, and now Jiro carried within them. Their defiance would see the dawn.