Chapter 55: A Lot To Do

The pre-dawn chill was slowly giving way to the soft, grey light of morning. After the strange, unsettling encounter with Gabby, Maarg realized he had no other choice than to go back inside the cabin. He lingered for a moment, the roar of the waterfall now a less menacing, more constant sound, before turning and slowly retracing his steps towards the lounge building.

As he moved, his mind replayed the events of the night. He was certain Gabby was hiding something. The secretive manner, the uncharacteristic calm, the sudden appearance of the gun, and those emotionless amber eyes—they all pointed to a deeper truth Gabby wasn't willing to share. Maarg knew it because he, too, had been hiding his own abnormal abilities from the others, keeping his surging strength and speed, and the accompanying, terrifying bloodlust, a closely guarded secret. It was a common thread among survivors, this instinct to protect one's vulnerabilities, even from those closest.

Maarg couldn't shake the doubt. Could Gabby even use a high-caliber gun like that Desert Eagle? It would be a wildcard in Gabby's hands, potentially more dangerous to their own group than to any threat if mishandled. Would it be alright to talk with Henry about it? Maarg knew Henry much more than he knew Gabby. Henry was the one who had literally blown Charity's head off the first time, a feat of precision and power. Compared to that, all Maarg knew about Gabby's marksmanship feats was that he had shot a cannibal at point-blank range during an earlier encounter, which didn't seem to stack up against Henry's track record. And was Gabby truly so clumsy that he would forget to pick up his own gun, leaving it prominently displayed on a rock? That simply didn't make any sense. The more he considered it, the more suspicious Gabby's story became.

Questions, he just had questions and no answers.

Maarg's thoughts started wandering, drifting from Gabby to himself. He recalled that the only people who had even glimpsed him using his abilities, really seen what he was capable of, were Jack, Henry, Tara, and Mark. The memory of Tara and Mark brought a sharp pang of remorse. He had tried, God, he had tried, but he hadn't been able to save them from Gunther's monstrous experiment or the ensuing inferno. The weight of their loss, even now, felt like a physical burden.

He snapped out of his thoughts abruptly as the familiar silhouette of the cabin came into his sight, a solid, reassuring shape against the brightening sky. It was time to face the new day, and the questions that still lingered.

The heavy wooden door creaked as Maarg pushed it open, stepping back into the cabin. The pre-dawn gloom had lifted, replaced by the soft, diffused glow of the rising sun. Streaks of early morning light, filtered through the grimy windows, illuminated the lounge area more clearly than the night before. He could now distinctly make out the chaotic scene: overturned chairs, mountains of scattered books, burst luggage spilling clothes like discarded skins. It was undeniably a mess, a testament to the abrupt departure of its previous occupants.

Yet, despite the disarray, Maarg's eyes, now unhindered by darkness, saw something beyond the immediate clutter. He saw the future potential of this place. The constant, thrumming roar of the waterfall outside meant water was abundantly available, a critical resource that would never run dry here. And if they took the time to scavenge around the tourist area, Maarg was almost certain they'd find a restaurant or a fast-food chain. Such places were goldmines for canned goods, non-perishable food, and even basic medical supplies. This wasn't just a temporary refuge; it could be a sustainable base, at least for a while.

A surge of resolve, cold and clear like the waterfall itself, pushed aside the lingering questions about Gabby and the unsettling gun. 'Get ready, we have a lot to do today,' Maarg said to himself, his voice a low murmur in the quiet cabin. Sleep was no longer an option. It was already getting bright outside, and soon, everyone else would wake up, needing answers and direction. Why shouldn't he prepare some things that would make their journey, their continued survival, just a bit less tough?

He found a relatively clear spot near a dusty, overturned coffee table and started to perform some basic stretches. His muscles protested, stiff and sore from the previous night's ordeal and the awkward armchair sleep, but he pushed through it. Each movement was deliberate, warming his body, preparing it for the challenges ahead. He rotated his neck, trying to ease the persistent ache, then bent to touch his toes, feeling the stretch in his hamstrings. As he moved, his mind began to catalogue tasks: check the truck's fuel, ration existing supplies, plan scouting routes for the day. He might not have all the answers, but he could certainly start gathering what they needed.

***

Maarg got to work with a quiet efficiency born of necessity. His first task was to orient himself. He spotted a crumpled brochure lying amidst the mess, a tourist map of Whispering Falls. Carefully, he smoothed it out, trying his best to link it to the map of Toronto Henry had shown them previously. All their gear, including Henry's detailed maps, had been taken by the man-eaters and later consumed by the inferno at the base. He had to rely purely on his memory until Henry woke up and could verify their location.

He also discovered that the cabin they were in was an Airbnb, which hinted at other structures in the vicinity, potentially containing more supplies. Curiosity piqued, Maarg wondered what lay on the second floor. However, Andy and Johan, with their practical foresight, had already blocked the stairs leading up, using one of the heavy cabinets as a makeshift barrier. This meant the second floor was inaccessible for now, likely to prevent any wandering zombies from stumbling upon them.

With his immediate surroundings assessed, Maarg focused on more tangible tasks. His priority list was clear: stock up on food, a constant concern in this ravaged world. Next, he needed to craft the makeshift spear (poke stick) he'd been planning, a more effective weapon than his current knife. Finally, and most importantly, he had to try to train with his abilities, to understand and perhaps even control the volatile power that surged within him. He aimed to do it all before the others woke up. He couldn't even lie about taking a bath like someone he knew