ENDURANCE BEYOUND APOCALYPSE

Days 201-209

During days 201-204, the world found itself on the precipice of an apocalyptic nightmare as a relentless nuclear war unfolded. Both the United States and its adversaries engaged in the destructive obliteration of cities, pushing humanity towards the brink of extinction. The grim reality of impending doom hung heavily over the global landscape, with the only glimmer of hope relying on putting an end to the ceaseless barrage of nuclear retaliation.

Amid this global chaos, our journey led us to the mountain town of Big Bear, California. The previous day, a US military Osprey had crashed just half a mile from our location, marking the closest encounter we had with military aircraft since the onset of bombings.

Navigating through the dense forest and fresh snowfall, we reached the smoking wreckage. Cognizant of potential dangers, given my past military service in Afghanistan and Iraq, I kept Alexis at a safe distance while Annie and I approached the burning aircraft. Our goal was to shield Robby, Alexis, and Meg from the grim aftermath.

As we approached, my fears materialized—the Osprey had sustained catastrophic damage, with at least four occupants in the back appearing lifeless amidst the snow. The raging fire obscured visibility inside, preventing confirmation of additional casualties.

To our astonishment, Annie's call from the cockpit revealed a surviving pilot. Despite the growing inferno and his precarious state of consciousness, we were compelled to rescue him. Climbing onto the wreckage, I struggled with the restraints confining the pilot until I noticed a survival knife on the deceased co-pilot's leg. Swiftly cutting the restraints, I faced the urgent task of extracting the injured pilot, weighing 180 pounds, before the encroaching flames consumed us.

Summoning every ounce of strength, I hoisted him out, mindful of the potential harm to his spinal cord. A less-than-dignified slide down the aircraft's nose ensued, landing him on Annie with a resounding thud. The impact exacerbated an already visible open fracture in his right leg, leaving me no choice but to prioritize immediate rescue over the risk of exacerbating injuries.

As the cockpit succumbed to flames, I spotted a backpack within reach, seizing it moments before the fire claimed the wreckage and the deceased pilot. With time of the essence, I called for the first aid supplies our group carried. The urgency intensified as I tended to the pilot's injuries, using my battlefield first aid experience to address an open fracture. Recognizing the bleak odds of survival without prompt medical attention, I improvised a makeshift covering using a plastic bag, bandages, and tape to shield the wound from the elements.

Our proximity to Big Bear offered a slim chance of survival for the pilot, contingent upon reaching the town swiftly and finding medical assistance. However, an unforeseen challenge emerged as snowfall transformed into a relentless blizzard, presenting a new obstacle on our perilous journey.

Enduring an unexpected and severe blizzard for two days, our group faced the challenge of crafting a sled on the third day. The objective was to transport the unconscious pilot, fortunate that he remained in a deep slumber, sparing him potential agony upon awakening.

Utilizing wreckage and 550 cord from parachutes, we fashioned a makeshift sled. Abandoning our bikes due to their impracticality in the deep snow, we embarked on a difficult journey up the lengthy road leading to Big Bear.

The pilot, identified only by the last name Tomlin, remained in a comatose state, occasionally moaning and muttering. His torn flight suit concealed his first name. We took extra precautions, enveloping him in additional blankets to alleviate the pallor of his deathly pale skin. Fears of the worst outcome lingered, but we diligently kept him hydrated, administering antibiotics dissolved in carefully provided water. Lucky, our loyal companion, offered occasional comforting face licks while standing vigil by Tomlin's side.

From the salvaged aircraft bag, I discovered an extra pair of Army Combat Uniforms (ACUs), which I promptly put on. Grateful for the camouflage given the challenges faced in recent months, I recognized the importance of every advantage in this new world. Hoping to secure more, I envisioned future raids on military supply depots or surplus stores for the benefit of our entire group.

With unwavering determination, Robbie and I alternated dragging the injured Tomlin up the mountain road. However, our progress came to a sudden halt when we found ourselves confronted by a group brandishing rifles aimed directly at our chests.

Days 210-221

Big Bear flourished, dispelling any worries of abandonment or devastation. However, the welcome from the residents matched our expectations of inhospitality, a sentiment somewhat justified considering our recent ordeals.

On the journey, we encountered an armed group that initially demanded our retreat. The situation took a turn when they noticed my military uniform, causing a brief pause. Swiftly, I explained that we were crash survivors with a critically injured companion requiring medical attention. Two figures emerged from the group: an elderly Hispanic woman with gray hair and a shotgun, and a tall, stern man of similar age, wielding a Smith & Wesson .357 revolver in our direction.

"Are you with the army?" he sharply questioned. I nodded, weaving a web of lies about our crashed Osprey and the sole survivor we were aiding. The fabrications flowed effortlessly, a necessary tactic for securing refuge. Eventually, the group relented, allowing us in and arranging a truck to meet us.

The sight of operational vehicles in the mountain town surprised me, but it made sense given the harsh winters. The truck transported us to town, where a genuine doctor greeted us and promptly attended to Tomlin, rushing him into surgery. However, medical resources were limited, and assurances were sparse.

Expressing gratitude, I faced a barrage of questions. I fabricated stories about reconnaissance missions over devastated areas, searching for survivor groups. When asked about the state of the world, I painted a grim picture of China and Russia's attacks, our retaliation, and the subsequent destruction of coastal cities.

The aftermath left Europe in ruins, the US government relocated to Kansas, and millions dead. My responses ranged from vague to imaginative, evoking a mix of emotions from hope to despair and anger. I emphasized the need for resilience, uncertain about external assistance.

Despite uncertainties, the residents allowed us to stay in one of the summer rental cabins by the lake. Grateful for safety and the company of my surviving friends, I pondered the potential repercussions when Tomlin awoke and revealed the truth. The comfort of a real bed was overshadowed by the unsettling anticipation of what lay ahead.

Tomlin's surgery was as successful as could be expected. The doctor managed to set his bones, providing hope that he might walk again, albeit with a limp, if he regained consciousness.

The uncertainty of Tomlin waking up loomed large, and I couldn't help but express my concerns to the doctor. She simply shrugged, suspecting that Tomlin might be grappling with a traumatic brain injury from the crash, compounded by an ongoing battle with infection. The timeline for his awakening was uncertain—tomorrow, in a week, a month, or perhaps never.

Despite efforts to conceal the truth, questions kept coming my way. Most inquiries were veiled expressions of concern about the fate of specific cities, a desperate search for information about loved ones amidst the nuclear holocaust. It was a delicate balance between providing hope and avoiding further deception.

The majority of the locals were receptive, finding solace in the knowledge that our military and government endured, offering a potential path to restoring order. The military uniform, a decision I had hesitated over, now seemed vindicated. It appeared that without it, we might have faced rejection.

The presence of a stern figure named Stenson, armed with a revolver, intensified our unease. He scrutinized our every move, emanating suspicion. It was evident that he held the power to decide who received treatment and who would be turned away. Assimilating into their community became paramount, the only plausible strategy to secure our place in the town if the truth were ever revealed.

Accompanied by Gabriella, the formidable woman we met with Stenson on the road, I engaged in a hunting expedition. It was clear she had extended the invitation to assess my character.

Despite tensions, Gabriella proved to be more welcoming. Public disputes arose about our presence, with Stenson urging us to depart once the snow cleared and Gabriella emphasizing the need for societal growth. I found her admirable—a blend of toughness and kindness. Her presence brought to mind Lilith, who had undergone significant hardships.

In the past, Lilith might have been perceived as a typical millennial, obsessed with launching TikTok trends. However, the harsh realities of the last seven months had transformed her into someone excessively hardened. Concerned for her well-being, I hoped she could evolve into someone resembling Gabriella—tough yet compassionate. I attentively observed Gabriella's tracking skills, absorbing what knowledge I could. Our joint efforts resulted in a successful hunt, capturing a large deer.

Days 226-232

The survivor community comprised around 90 individuals, spanning various ages, with Stenson likely holding the title of both the eldest and the most resilient. Armed with a revolver, he remained prepared for potential threats. In the mountainous region, survival primarily involved maintaining essential resources.

The lake supplied abundant fresh water, and the community implemented a system of filters using river rocks, sand, and charcoal to mitigate fallout contamination. Despite these measures, accepting the impossibility of completely avoiding contamination became a shared understanding. The projected human lifespan had significantly decreased, emphasizing the need for careful resource management.

While the lake still offered fish, a dwindling game population concerned Gabriella. She confided in me about the diminishing availability of game in the mountains, raising fears that soon there might be none left to hunt. This predicament left the community reliant on existing stockpiles and whatever they could cultivate during the spring and summer.

Stenson advocated for bolstering the community through additional members, emphasizing the importance of cooperation and growth. Alexis aligned with Gabriella, advocating for not just survival but active rebuilding. Annie and I found ourselves in a middle ground, whereas Lilith seemed more aligned with Stenson's perspective. Meg and Robbie remained neutral, grateful for the safety provided by the community.

My initial resentment towards Robby had gradually waned. Although he had betrayed us, it became apparent that his actions were driven by the captivity of his sister. Held hostage by slavers, he had endured months of suffering. I began to view Robby and Meg as quasi-siblings, and even Lucky, our canine companion, accepted them, choosing to sleep with Meg at night.

Days 233-241

Days 233-236 unfolded in an unsettling semblance of normalcy, reminiscent of a bygone era, but the absence of electricity served as a stark reminder of our altered reality. Despite our mountain refuge being well-stocked through collective efforts, Annie, the pragmatic survivor, advocated for a discreet reserve, foreseeing the need for a hasty retreat. Though I tried to reassure her, an unshakable premonition lingered—an intuition that something would inevitably go awry.

The equilibrium shattered when a group of youthful hunters failed to return from their expedition to the northern ridge. Worry enveloped the community as 24 hours passed with no sign of their return. Gabriella sought assistance in the search party, but Annie, sensing impending trouble, insisted on joining, her instincts honed by an unspoken apprehension.

As we ventured further, Gabriella's unease became apparent. Annie's suspicion intensified, and after a two-day trail through deep snow, we reached the hunters' campsite—a chilling scene of struggle, bloodstains, and a collapsed tent. Footprints indicated six people entered, but only ten departed, one grievously wounded. Annie's foreboding proved justified.

Gabriella finally disclosed the ongoing struggle with "encroachers." These groups, encountered on the outskirts for months, seemed to be scouts or ruthless bandits studying the town's vulnerabilities. Three days behind the group responsible for the hunters' capture, our limited supplies compelled a regrettable decision to turn back before resuming pursuit. The gravity of the situation demanded swift action as we prepared for an impending confrontation.

Days 242-250 brought us face-to-face with a grim reality that demanded swift and secretive action. Anxious mothers sought reassurance from Gabriella upon our return, but she cautioned against disclosing the unsettling truth we had uncovered. Despite my belief in transparency, a clandestine meeting revealed a unanimous decision to keep the information confidential, launching a rescue mission if possible.

Challenged by Stenson to prove my worth, Annie and surprisingly, Robby, insisted on accompanying me. Robby remained steadfast despite my efforts to dissuade him. Annie's words emphasized the necessity for everyone to embrace a fighter's mindset for survival. Alexis sensed the gravity of the situation, offering a poignant kiss as a silent farewell.

Annie, Robby, and I bid farewell to the girls and joined forces with Gabriella, who introduced Marcus, an adept tracker, as our guide. Retracing our steps through falling gray snow, Marcus utilized his tracking skills to navigate secret shortcuts through the mountains.

Upon reaching the old campsite, signs of struggle were evident, and Marcus skillfully identified the trail left by our abductors. A day later, a grisly discovery shook our resolve—a corpse bearing signs of violent mutilation. The hunters were in grave danger, evident from the meticulously harvested organs and flesh. The revelation unsettled us all, propelling us forward with renewed determination.

Battling through thick snow, we pressed on, driven by the shared fear for the abducted teenagers. Each night brought only six hours of sleep, the bare minimum required for physical recovery. The signs left by the captives revealed their clever attempts to slow down their pursuers. Robby, a witness to many horrors, grappled with the grim reality of cannibalism, fueling a dark rage within me, concealed from Alexis, Meg, and Lilith.