Hey guys. My name is The Specter Novelist. Yes…the name is cringy. What can I say? I made this account 5 years ago (I think?). Point being, it was in my earlier yea- NEVER MIND. For a while I have always read fanfiction but never actually wrote fanfiction. IT ALL CHANGES NOW! This is my first fanfic based on the game FrostPunk. Please write a review, I am really trying to work on my creative writing ability. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Full on bashing my writing…is also fine(?), though I will most likely ignore it. That is all I have to say. Enjoy the story!
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Chapter 0: Beyond the Ash and Snow
The air is warm, yet I feel no comfort in its embrace. None of us have moved from the storage hall for the past hour. Rows upon rows of wooden crates stretch down the empty hall, vanishing towards the dark corridor in the back. Oil lambs have been placed at our feet on the hardwood surface, emitting an odor of burning fat that mixes into the musty air. The metal beams above us continue creaking from the strain against the faint howling wind. James is still pacing along the resource crates, his footsteps echoing off the copper metal walls, while Ashley and Fergusson watch on in trepidation. Although we don't speak it, we are all aware of the dire straights fate had dealt us with a cruel irony.
*pack pack pack*
Those metal soles of his against the wood floor are now beginning to drive me mad, and I believe the feeling is mutual for Ashly and Fergusson as well. I have half a mind to shout it to him, to force him down on the floor and cease his none-stop "contemplation". Yet I know that he is only grieving; we all are. Our true expressions of fear, guilt, and despair are merely being withheld by the ever-present feeling of shock we all felt. It is a feeling colder than ice.
*pack pack pa-*
I look up. James has stopped pacing. He's looking right at me. I know what he is going to ask next.
"Are you SURE we are alone?!"
And again, with a heart filled with regret, I can only tell him the same answer as before.
"We are all alone."
*pack pack*
He is beginning to pace again. Eventually, he shakes his head.
"No…no…this place is too complex to be unmanned"
raking his fingers through his hair he continues,
"There needs to be at least be one person to man the furnaces. And don't even get me started on the generator…"
This continues for ten more minutes. James continues to list off every possible position that would require an engineer or a large caliber workforce. When he finally lists off the broilers, his face twists again into that of concentration.
"This… a monstrosity of this caliber cannot be unmanned! There needs to be at least someone to provide routinely maintenance…"
*pack-pack-pack*
His pace has quickened. A small hiccup alerts my attention, and I take a glance towards Ashley and Fergusson. Ashley is on the verge of tears, her face of shock beginning to melt and be replaced with one of hysteria. The majority of her family were one of the many engineers assigned to construct this vessel. Lord knows how she was feeling, realizing they were not a part of the lasting workforce. Fergusson immediately pulls her close and rubs her shoulder, making an attempt to calm down his little sister, while shooting James a glare to mark his displeasure.
"Could you keep your voice down?! They'll hear you!"
James rounds on Fergusson, reflecting a glare of his own.
"If what Thomas says is true, they will know eventually"
"They don't need to know now!"
Fergusson is referring to the others. The 26 additional children in the storage hall next door, lucky enough to have stowed away with us before the storm. How thick were these walls? Would they even listen in?
"But the will know! What will they think when they discover their daddy's are not patrolling the halls, or that their mums are not preparing food in the kitchens?! They will know eventually, if they already don't-!" (change this dialogue – less pathetic)
"They don't need to know NOW!"
Fergusson's voice cracks at the end of his statement. James takes a step back. Fergusson's eyes had begun to swell red. Ashely was already crying into his shoulder, snot, tears and saliva staining his leather coat. Subconsciously, I turn my head to the left. The hull door had been left slightly ajar from our declaration of a "private meeting". Though I knew too, James was right. If they didn't know already, they would know sooner than later.
James face of anger briefly morphs into that of guilt and then back to neutral. Turning on his heel, he quickly faces me. His eyes are set, determined to receive an answer I know I could not give him, yet alas he cannot face it. He cannot contemplate that we were the remainder. The last survivors of New York City. Countless years of cultivation, industrialization, and progression, all wiped away in a single night, leaving its survivors on a sheet of mechanized metal. The worst part is, I think with cruel amusement, these survivors are merely children, now orphans as of late. A minor spec, compared to the millions of workers and family members that were supposed to accompany us along this hard journey. And even then, a journey to where?
This is a fact we must face, no matter how downtrodden and diminished our hopes may be. And as such, I need to convince him of it, no matter how hard he denies.
"The ship is automated."
Before he speaks, I reach into my breast pocket pulling out the journal I snagged from the abandoned engineers office.
"Everything has been optimized to support and run completely through automatons. They even have a repair grid for the ones that spontaneously break down, and even that is built for minimal maintenance"
Holding the journal like a bible, I point to the ground.
"This ship is its own metal terrarium." I say darkly,
"There are no additional living quarters, only automaton docking stations. There is only one kitchen, and according to the pantry labels, it only has enough rations to feed 10 people for 15 years."
"But you haven't even checked the upper levels!" He exclaimed, desperation leaking into his voice.
I stiffly shake my head.
"There is only an automated piloting bridge with additional weather monitors. There is also a specified 'God's Dome', but according to this" I tap the journal against my knee "it's only for cultivating a small settlement. Trust me…I checked"
I take a deep breath
"This ship was made to house and transport the materials necessary for a brand new colonization. A moving storage shed for the transport ships that were supposed to accompany us"
My eyes are beginning to tingle. I can't meet his eyes anymore. The cold feeling of shock is beginning to subside, but at the same time being replaced with something much worse…
"We…we really are the only ones here?"
James' voice has finally cracked.
I nod.
"This ship, is merely an automated storage vessel"
The shock has subsided. Now slowly comes the realization. The grief and pain we all feel begins to pour freely from all of us.
Looking down, a few specs of water hit the hard wood at my feet. I don't dare look up. I can already picture their faces before me, devoid of the hope we held moments before. In my stupor, a vision of a women with brown hair and blue eyes passes through my minds eye, a portly man with a lecherous grin standing close behind her.
My dam finally breaks.
"WE'RE ALONE!" I wail. I can already hear sobs reverberating in the hall next door. They were listening in after all.
I wipe my eyes of the fresh tears pouring down my face. I hear James stumble into a sitting position near one of the crates, tilting his head back, he cries into the open room. Ashley is balling louder into Fergusson's shoulder, while he cries silently into his own scarf.
I curl up my legs upon myself, burying my head into my knees. We're all alone. I Thomas Regenson, along with 29 kids of ages 10-16 with no parents, no engineers, no crew, no adults, are all alone aboard the fully automated mega-storage class airship known as Noah's New Haven. We are the last survivors of New York city.
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I KNOW I KNOW! VERY LITTLE DETAIL. And very short… maybe a little rushed? This was meant to make sure I have at least something to write about. Will update with a new chapter this week! Maybe revise the prologue to make it more readable/understandable. See ya till then! (update: this prologue was revised :P. Will probably do more of that later on. Come to think of it…this is not really a chapter but more of a brainstorm session. I'm posting it anyway…)