Survival requires grit and courage, without them, you won't last long...
McArthy pushed past the brush as he marched forward. The snow was getting worse and worse. What was once a calm walk had turned into a trudge as he pushed his legs through the snow. The bitter cold was beginning to bite at his skin, even with the armor and fatigues he had on.
He stopped for a moment to lean against a tree. He hushed himself, he heard something, and he needs to figure out where it's coming from. Now without the sound of his feet trudging through snow, he could hear more clearly the sound of a running stream. McArthy smiled softly, running water was always a good thing.
He made his way towards the sound, but once he reached it, his smile disappeared. Indeed, there was a stream, but that wasn't all. The first thing he saw as the stream came into view was an elite's corpse, sitting in the running water.
McArthy was caught off guard by the sight. How did the elite die? The last UNSC forces had evacuated long ago, and were now plummeting back down to the surface in the burning carcass of a frigate.
As he approached the body, he turned to see more bodies, not all of which were alien. All along the stream, there were bodies of marines, elites, grunts, even a few ODST bodies.
McArthy realized that whatever this fight was, it happened a while ago. The bodies were slightly decomposed, so he knew he didn't have to worry about there being enemies nearby. A little vomit traveled up McArthy's throat as he observed the decaying corpses more closely.
An idea struck him as he wandered the stream's side, staring at the bodies around him. This is just a normal stream, why would there be such a big fight here? There must be some kind of base nearby, or at least something he could use as shelter. McArthy noticed that there was some kind of loose trail of human bodies, leading into the forest on the other side of the stream. McArthy stared at it, then realized that might be where the base is. Marines must've been falling back to the base, only to get shot down by plasma.
McArthy used the bodies of elites to keep out of the water and hopped over the stream, not wanting to get wet in the freezing weather. Once he was on the other side, he looked around at the bodies around him. He wanted to pick up their dog tags, but there were too many of them, and it would be a waste of energy.
McArthy sighed, not liking the feeling of just leaving his fellow soldiers like this. But right now, he had his priorities. And right now, the storm was getting worse. Hell, by the time it was dark, this stream might be frozen over.
McArthy grunted, then said, "You fought well, soldiers. I'm sorry I can't do much from here."
He stared at the bodies, as if expecting a response from them, then turned and walked into the trees. He followed the loose trail of bodies, most of which were now half buried under snow.
He started walking up an incline, as the forest began rising. McArthy assumed that was a good sign. A base might be located on higher flat ground. He felt fortunate he dropped only an hour's walk from this place. He could've dropped in the middle of nowhere.
His theory was soon proven right as he crested the incline, only to see a warped and broken metal fence not far from him. Behind the damaged fence was a small outpost, one that looked completely abandoned. Snow was piled on it's roof and along it's walls, icicles hanging from the roof's edges, along with more corpses lying about.
McArthy ducked and passed throught he fence, then straightened his back and got a better view of the outpost. There was a courtyard, which had the corpses strung across the ground. At the courtyard edge was a large and very busted com tower, the top piece almost completely blown apart. The outpost itself seemed to be a long building, only a single story. It had garage doors along its front, some still shut, others blown open, and one regular door with a thick glass window next to it.
McArthy slowly approached the door, keeping his eyes on the perimeter of the outpost. He didn't know whether any Covenant were still around, and he wasn't going to get caught with his pants down. As he neared the door, he grabbed his pistol with one hand and held it ready to fire. He checked the door, to see it was undamaged. Unfortunately, it wasn't on some hinge, it was automatic. He wondered if the place still had any power left.
Before he even thought of opening it, he peeked through the window to try and see inside. The window was very frosty, so he couldn't see well inside. Even then, he was confident enough that he didn't see anything alive inside, so he turned his attention to the door.
There was a flat panel next to the door, which McArthy attempted to touch. Nothing happened as he pressed his fingers against it, then he gave it a harder slap. He watched a very faint glow come from the panel. It had some power, not much, though. He leaned closer to look at it, then saw faint words that said "Keycard Required"
McArthy grunted, then slowly turned his head to the bodies in the courtyard. Most of them were marines, but a few were dressed like officers. They were his best bet at getting in.
McArthy grimaced as he approached them, then crouched next to a body and said, "Sorry to desecrate you like this, sir. But I'm in a bit of a pickle."
He carefully flipped the body over, then almost vomited as he was face to face with a fleshy human skull, the eyeballs already missing. McArthy held it together, then softly put the body down and ran his hand into the officer's uniform. He felt something like a chain, then yanked on it and lifted his hand. He raised a small card from the officer, then sighed and gave the body a pat on the chest.
McArthy moved back over to the panel, the faint glow now missing. McArthy grunted, then gave it another light smack. The faint glow reappeared, then McArthy pressed the card against the panel. He watched the soft glow of a green light appear, then the door hissed. He turned his head to see the door creak as it opened halfway, then it hissed and stopped moving.
McArthy let out a sigh of relief, then squeezed himself into the building. He turned back to see another panel inside, this time with a swimple button on the top. He pressed the button, then heard the door creak again and begin to close. It shut with a hiss, then McArthy sighed and turned around.
He could already tell the temperature difference. It was still cold, but at least it was a survivable cold. The room looked to be a control room, with a wide array of consoles and monitors, not a single one was powered on.
Farther into the room seemed to be some kind of planning area. It had a long table, surrounded by plenty of space. On both sides of the room, there were doors leading to the other sections of the buildings. Most likely the ones that had the garage doors. These doors were automatic as well, so for now, they were stuck shut as well.
McArthy slipped his helmet off his head and took a seat in a chair sitting in front of the consoles. He placed his helmet on top of the console, then detached the sack from his back and laid it on the ground beside him.
He was safe, for now. McArthy let out a sigh, then laid his head back and tried to get comfortable. He knew what was about to hit him, and it was gonna hit him harder the second time around.
Usually in this kind of situation, Mark was around to keep his spirits up, or Belle would say something that would, at the very least, keep his mind off their terrible situation, or Kenzie would have some kind of plan to give him hope. But now he was all alone.
The loneliness was creeping in on him, and the pointlessness of his situation was clear as day. Tears began running down his face again, but McArthy wasn't going to hold them back this time. He needed to let it out, at least once.
He began breaking down on that chair, with no one around to comfort him. He's never felt worse.
As the sun lowered, the snowing became worse and worse, piling up against the no longer abandoned outpost. Soon enough, McArthy was able to see the snow against the bottom of the window. In the night, the temperature dropped even colder, to the point that McArthy couldn't help but shivering.
As he sat in that chair, gripping his own body as tight as he could, he began to wonder if maybe he should've collected firewood. Though that would've just filled the inside with smoke. He honestly would prefer a smoky room over the frigid cold he was stuck in.
Luckily, it wasn't gonna get much colder than this, so he only had to wait until morning. Though, as he thought this, he wondered what then. What was he going to do once morning came?
McArthy turned his head to the two doors on both ends of the rooms. All he really could do was explore his temporary home a little. See what it had to offer to him. Maybe, seeing as it was a base, there would be some supplies he could find. Though he doubted it. From the looks of it, the place seemed ransacked by the Covenant a while ago.
Right now, he was too cold and too tired to want to do anything. McArthy grabbed his helmet and slipped it on his head, trying to keep his face warm.
He slowly let out a long sigh, then shut his eyes and tried to get some rest. He was going to need it, he had no idea what he had ahead of him the coming day.
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McArthy slowly opened his eyes, letting out a loud yawn as he stirred. He moved his arms and legs outward to stretch, and could still feel the cold nipping at him. At least he woke up.
McArthy groaned as he stood up from the chair, soreness stretching across his entire body. Falling asleep on an office chair wasn't exactly a good idea. Then again, it was either that or the cold floor.
As McArthy continued to stir, he wondered if there were beds in the outpost. It was small, but maybe one of the rooms was used for bunking. He could maybe also see if there was any way to get more power into the building. He could try to activate the heaters, get the place to a comfortable temperature.
Though all these ideas were nice, McArthy doubted they were possible. He was no electrician or engineer, trying to build or even just fix a power source would be a pointless effort. What he did know was that the other rooms were yet to be explored, and McArthy needed something to do.
He slowly moved his way over to one of the doors, then looked at the panel sitting next to it. There was a simple button, so he pressed it, and in return the door hissed. It opened, but barely, only giving him enough room for a peek. McArthy sighed, then gave the panel a slightly smack. The door opened a little more, maybe enough for him to squeeze through.
McArthy gripped the edge of the door, then began pulling with all his strength. The door only slightly budged, but that was enough to give him room to slide through. Once he slipped through the door, he realized the room was almost pitch black.
That was good, that meant the garage doors in this room were undamaged. Maybe there was something useful still in here. Though, he noticed something else, a foul stench.
He activated the nightvision in his helmet, only to see the corpse of a brute pinned to the wall by the throat with a metal pipe. McArthy stared at the corpse, dumbfounded. What could've done that? Did the big guys get into a fight amongst themselves?
McArthy grabbed his smg from his hip, on guard now. The brute was the only corpse, but one thing kept him from going into full combat mode. The corpse was very decomposed, McArthy would give it a week or two until the body fell from the pipe once the flesh was all gone. Whatever killed it would be long gone by now.
Slowly scanned the rest of the room. It seemed like a maintenance room, which was evident by the broken down warthog. McArthy didn't get excited by the sight of a warthog, he knew it was busted beyond repair. The front appeared crushed, maybe that brute was to blame. Along with that, two of the wheels were ripped off.
McArthy turned to see both the wheels were lying in different ends of the room. It was strange. As McArthy continued walking through the room, occasionally peeking at the brute's corpse, he heard his foot run into something heavy. He peeked downwards, only to see he had stepped right into a gravity hammer.
He stared at the weapon, caught in awe. He then noticed the bladed end of the hammer was covered in long dried blood. McArthy looked back up to the brute, trying to recognize it's rank. That's when he noticed it's helmet lying on the ground under its feet. It was definitely a chieftain by the look of the helmet.
The thought then hit him. The brute was a chieftain, which meant that the gravity hammer was its own. Whatever it was fighting, it had hurt, given the red dried blood on the blade, but brutes didn't bleed red blood. Not the ones he's shot, at least.
McArthy turned towards the end of the room to see another door, this one was already open. As he made his way to investigate the next room, he continued piecing the situation together. What Covenant species does he know of is strong enough to fight a brute, yet bleeds red blood?
McArthy didn't need to figure it out himself as he entered the next room. He walked in, then tripped over something heavy underneath him. He crashed against something as he fell, then he quickly jumped up and looked down.
Lying on the ground, a long dried puddle of blood under them, was a spartan. McArthy stared at the spartan, dumbfounded. He didn't even know one was deployed on the planet.
He quickly moved down to the spartan, running his free hand over their armored corpse. It was a woman, and from what he could see, the chieftain was able to stab the spartan right in the stomach, gutting her. But, from what was evident, the spartan didn't let that stop her.
McArthy didn't like the feeling, but it was a necessity in his situation. He checked the corpse for any resources as respectfully as he could, but he was out of luck. The only thing the spartan had was the armor on her back.
He sighed, then stood up from the body and said, "One Hell of a woman, I would say. Brute got what he deserves."
McArthy gave a small nod, then turned to look at the rest of the room. He almost let out a gasp at the sight. He was standing in a medical room.
A smile spread across his face, then he holstered his smg and raced towards the large shelves. He began ripping them open, though with each one he opened, his enthusiasm disappeared more and more. Each one seemed empty, until he opened one and found two items.
McArthy grabbed them, then lifted up half a roll of gauze, along with a small bottle of antibiotics. He sighed, but then chuckled to himself. It was better than nothing. He detached his sack, then carefully stored the two items in it. He placed the sack on the ground, then began checking the rest of the cabinets, only to find they were all empty.
McArthy slipped the sack back on his back, then heard his stomach rumble. He was getting hungry, he guessed it was time to get a fire started and use one of his MRE's.
He journeyed back through the outpost, once again surveying them to look for anything else useful. Without seeing anything, he grunted and moved back to the main room. Once he slipped through the door and re-entered the command room.
He walked towards the door next to the window, then noticed the snow. It was going to be up to his knees. McArthy wasn't going to enjoy trudging through, but he had no choice. He pressed the button, then the door creaked and slid only halfway open, revealing the snow packed up to his knees.
McArthy carefully pushed through the snow, then began making his way to the forest, looking for wood for a fire. As he left the outpost, he made his way to the closest trees and grabbed at their lowest branches. He was ripping them off, then holding under his arm.
As he moved from tree to tree, he noticed something. It made the hairs on his neck rise. On top of the fresh snow, heading right past the outpost, was a trail of footsteps. He froze as he stared at the tracks, a soft breeze blowing against his neck.
He quickly moved closer to the tracks, trying to figure out exactly what might have left them. It could be just a native animal. Though once he was on top of them, he knew it wasn't. They were smaller than an elite or brute, and they were three toed, with claws at the ends.
Definitely jackals. Honestly, that was worse than any of the others. While elites and brutes were huge and terrifying, jackals were keen hunters. Sharp eyes, strong sense of smell, and with McArthy trying to avoid any attention at the moment, they were his biggest threats. He would have to be careful, it appears that he was lucky they didn't catch him in the outpost.
His pace quickened as he gathered the last of the wood he needed, then he moved back into the outpost as fast as possible. He made sure the door was well shut behind him, then he dropped the wood and let out a sigh of relief. Despite it being freezing cold outside, those tracks made him work up a sweat out of pure stress.
McArthy sat down on the floor, then pulled out his flint and steel from a small pouch. He carefully positioned the wood, then set them ablaze with his tools. As the fire crackled and came to life, he detached his sack and pulled out one of his MRE's. He was going to have to be sparing with these. Though there were plenty of marine bodies around to scavange from, he would do that later. At the moment, he had what he needed.
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McArthy finished the last of his MRE, satisfied that his hunger pains were gone. Now, he simply sat next to the fire, enjoying the warmth it was giving him. It definitely wasn't enough for him to say he wasn't cold, but it was still much better than before.
Rubbing his gloved hands a bit, he was about to lift his helmet off his head, when he heard a strange humming sound. He froze, his hands hovering over the sides of his helmet. He slowly turned his head towards the frosty window, staring at the bright outside. Then, a shadow moved past the window.
McArthy grabbed the smg from his hip, then quickly kicked the fire out and hopped behind the consoles in the room. He gripped his smg, feeling a small shutter of fear. He shook his head, trying to drain the fear from his system, then peeked around the console to stare at the window once more.
Once again, a shadow moved across it. Then a second, then a third, then he heard some kind of muffled bellow come from out the door. Even muffled, McArthy recognized that bellow from anywhere. They were brutes. He needed to leave, now.
McArthy carefully moved himself from the console towards the door he hadn't opened yet. He checked the window as he approached the door, making sure they weren't looking through, then he pressed the button on the panel.
The door creaked as it slowly moved, making McArthy spin around and stare at the window. He kept slapping the panel, hoping the door would open. He watched as a shadow seemed to get closer to the window, then the door stopped creaking.
Without looking away from the window, McArthy slipped through the door and stumbled into the next room. This room was lit due to the blown opening in the garage doors, which had snow trailing into the room. McArthy immediately identified the room as an armory, but strangely, it was completely barren. Not a gun, a grenade, or even a round was in sight. Everything was gone.
He then turned to the large opening, realizing he had a way out. He carefully moved towards the opening, then peeked out. As he thought, he could see two brutes speaking to each other in the courtyard. They were standing in front of a marine's corpse, occasionally kicking it.
McArthy peeked a little further to see the third brute, who was still staring at the window. He watched as the brute stared at it, then the brute began picking at its teeth. A sigh of relief escaped McArthy as he backed away from getting sighted. The brutes didn't know he was there.
Suddenly, one of the brutes angrily growled and said, "Agh! Searching for the heretic is boring me! They are a weak nobody, we should just let them run and die in the wilderness!"
McArthy froze as he listened to them speak. Maybe they did know, or at least they were looking for him.
He turned his head back into the room, then noticed the last door. It led to the last room, farther away from the brutes. If McArthy remembered right, that room's garage door had been blasted open as well.
He quietly made his way to the open door, then slipped into the final room. It wasn't a barracks, but it did have some strange devices in it. It looked like some kind of research room, with strange pieces of technology scattered across the rooms. Some were partly dismantled, while others were completely destroyed.
Maybe it was something McArthy could come back to, but right now, he had to get away from the brutes. He moved over to the garage door, then peeked out. He could see the three brutes were angrily discussing something, they seemed at the ready to pick a fight with each other.
This was the best time for McArthy to take his leave, so he did. He carefully leaped out of the room, then moved through the snow as fast as he could. He thought he was out of sight of the brutes, but then he heard one of them say, "I saw something! Movement! We may just have a feast tonight!"
McArthy's heart raced, then he bolted forward. He raced into the forest, pushing himself to trudge through the snow dangerously fast. He needed to hide in the trees, he couldn't take three brutes on alone.
He heard the sound of snow kicking up far behind him, then a voice yelled, "There! I think it's the heretic!"
"Open fire!"
Suddenly, a spike flew right through the tree directly in front of McArthy, making him move even faster. More spikes flew past McArthy, though he was lucky to have the trees obscuring their vision. The brutes, however, were getting closer.
McArthy was running as fast as he could, then a spike skimmed his shin pad and crashed into the snow. The force of the skim alone sent McArthy's foot under him, then he crashed into the snow and started tumbling down a hill he couldn't even see.
Once he crashed at the hills bottom, he frantically pulled himself from the snow and hid his body behind a tree, taking in deep breaths, trying to calm himself.
His breather, however, was caught off as he heard the three brutes appear at the top of the hill, looking down. He shut his mouth, trying to stay as silent as possible.
One of the brutes grunted, then said, "The heretic must be down there, I could've sworn I saw…"
They were cut off as a large bundle of snow kicked off to their left, catching their attention. McArthy looked off to the left as well, seeing the snow still flying in the air farther into the forest. He only saw a glint of red before whatever kicked the snow up disappeared.
The lead brute pointed in the direction and yelled, "There! After them!"
The three then ran off to pursue, leaving McArthy standing behind the tree. Once he could no longer see or hear the brutes, he started deeply breathing again, sucking in as much air as he could.
Slowly slid down the tree, almost breaking down. He felt like prey more than a soldier. Like a rabbit, stuck on a planet of hungry wolves.
He was quick to catch himself, however. He had the pleasantry of completely breaking down before, right now he had to get moving once again. He needed shelter, and he couldn't go back to that place now that he knew Covenant patrolled the area.
He grabbed a hold of his helmet, making sure it was properly sitting on his head, then sniffled and started moving forward. Maybe he'd get lucky and find another stream. Whatever it was he'd find, he just hoped he'd find it soon.