Chapter 19: Whispers of the Past

The cold bit into my skin, sharper than a blade. Even through my insulated gear, I could feel the chill worming its way into my bones. The wind howled, carrying with it the distant echoes of things lurking beyond sight. Snow crunched under my boots, each step sinking slightly into the frozen ground.

We had set out early, moving cautiously through the wasteland. The facility was secure, for now, but security meant nothing if we were the only ones left to defend it. Supplies wouldn't last forever. If we wanted to survive long-term, we needed more than weapons—we needed people.

Daniel walked beside me, silent. He had been quieter than usual since we left. His breath came in steady puffs of white mist, his rifle held at the ready. But his mind was elsewhere.

"Talk to me," I said.

He didn't answer at first, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The sun was barely visible through the thick, gray clouds. When he finally spoke, his voice was hollow.

"I had a brother," he said. "Before all this."

I didn't say anything, just let him continue.

"We were supposed to meet up after the first quakes hit. Had a plan, a place to regroup. But when I got there…" His jaw tightened. "Nothing. No sign of him. Just wreckage."

A cold wind cut through the air, whistling between the broken remains of an old radio tower. I knew that kind of loss. The kind that dug into you and never let go.

"You don't know if he made it?" I asked.

Daniel shook his head. "No. And I stopped looking a long time ago."

The weight of his words settled between us. I understood—sometimes, hope was just another way to break yourself.

Before I could say anything else, my system chimed.

System Notification:

Survivors detected. Weak signals. Estimated distance: 2.3 kilometers.

I exhaled sharply. "We're not alone."

Daniel's grip on his rifle tightened. "More creatures?"

I shook my head. "Humans."

His expression shifted—cautious, but not dismissive. He wanted to believe it. So did I.

We picked up the pace, moving through the frozen ruins. The air smelled of frost and rust, the remnants of civilization buried beneath layers of ice and decay. The wind carried faint sounds—footsteps? Breathing? It was hard to tell.

Then, a figure stumbled into view.

A woman, wrapped in torn, insulated gear. Her face was pale, lips cracked from the cold. She wasn't alone. Behind her, a small group—five, maybe six people—huddled together, their eyes hollow with hunger and exhaustion.

One of them held a rusted pistol, shaking from more than just the cold.

"Stay back!" he rasped.

Daniel and I didn't move.

"We're not here to hurt you," I said evenly. "We have food. Shelter."

Their eyes flickered with something—desperation, hope, fear.

Then, the woman stepped forward.

"Prove it."

I reached into my backpack, careful not to move too fast. With a practiced motion, I withdrew a sealed protein bar and tossed it toward them. The moment it hit the snow, one of them dove for it, tearing the package open with trembling hands.

They weren't just desperate. They were starving.

Daniel glanced at me. I nodded.

"We have more," I said. "Come with us."

The woman hesitated, then nodded. "Lead the way."

As we turned back toward the facility, my system chimed again.

System Update:

New Survivor Group Acquired: Processing Benefits…

I wasn't sure what that meant yet. But one thing was clear—this was just the beginning.

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