A lone man trudged through the snow, each step a battle against the biting cold and his own dwindling strength. The frost clung to his eyelashes, and his breath came in ragged, visible puffs. It was madness, this journey, but it was the only viable choice they had left—a last, desperate hope for their dying city.
Every step he took brought him further away from Winterhome. Becoming more difficult than the next. The thought of leaving them behind for help was even harder to bear.
All that bloodshed, the relentless reconstructions, and the countless efforts to fix what had been shattered weighed heavily on his mind. All of it felt as though it had been for nothing. Yet here he was, out and alone in the frozen wilderness, making one final attempt to find help.
Failure was not an option. Not when what little lives were left depended on him.
He paused, his body trembling with exhaustion, and dropped to his knees in the snow. For a moment, he simply knelt there, catching his breath, trying to summon any strength to keep moving. The world around him was eerily silent, the only sound the faint whistle of the wind as it swept across the desolate landscape.
But his body betrayed him. As he tried to rise, his legs finally gave out, and he fell forward, face-first into the snow. He lay there, the cold seeping into his bones, sapping what little warmth remained in him.
He was tired, so very tired.
Hunger gnawed at his insides, his throat parched, lips chipped, and cracked from the cold. Fear clung to him like a shadow, a constant reminder of how close he was to the end. When was the last time he had eaten? How long was he awake without sleep? The questions floated through his mind, hazy and indistinct.
Lifting his head slightly, he tried to focus on the snow-covered ground before him, but his vision blurred. His body refused to respond, the cold tightening its grip, sapping his will to move. His eyelids grew heavy, the urge to close them almost unbearable.
As his eyes slowly shut, the world around him faded into darkness.
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Walter led the way as always, with Jack following closely behind, both men leaning into the relentless wind that whipped against them. The blizzard had grown fiercer, snowflakes biting at their coats. Boris, their little furball companion, was safely tucked back into Jack's pack to prevent him from getting lost in the swirling whiteout.
They had been trudging through the snow for hours, but progress was steady. Their snowshoes kept them from sinking knee-deep into the drifts, a small mercy in the harsh conditions.
"Jack, stay close," Walter called over his shoulder, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. He paused briefly, checking the map he clutched in his gloved hands, making sure they were still on the right course. "I think we're almost there. Just a little more."
Jack, breathing heavily, struggled to match Walter's determined pace. "Okay… that's great," he panted. "But… I've been thinking. Isn't it odd that no one from Winterhome has tried to contact us by now? The bridge isn't far—they should have seen the smoke from our generator."
Walter frowned, the concern evident in his eyes. "Or at least our beacon. It doesn't add up why they haven't reached out to us, and now we're the ones heading over to them."
"Yeah, and John mentioned something about a riot over there too," Jack added, his voice tinged with unease. "It sounds really bad to be honest. He said they went silent after that."
Walter sighed, his breath visible in the freezing air. "Look, let's not worry about that right now. Let's just hope that it wasn't anything too serious, alright? We're getting closer to Winterhome… maybe we'll find some answers about what's going on over there."
The wind howled louder as they pushed forward, each step taking them closer to their destination., the heavy silence from Winterhome weighing on their minds like a storm waiting to break. Their conversation had sparked a faint hope for a better outcome, but it was short-lived. Walter suddenly halted, something caught his eye in the distance.
Through the swirling snow, a silhouette appeared—barely discernible, a dark shape against the endless white. The flapping of its clothing was faint, blending with the howling wind. From this distance, Walter couldn't tell if it was an object, an animal, or a person.
Whatever it was, its blue garbs were barely visible against the snow.
Jack noticed Walter's sudden stop and leaned slightly to see what had captured his attention. "What is it? What did you see, Walter?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and concern. Boris, sensing the tension, let out a low rumble from within Jack's pack.
Walter squinted through his goggles, then quickly pulled out his binoculars. He wiped the frost off the lenses and peered through them, trying to make out what lay ahead. The blizzard was thick, but he could just barely make out a lone figure, kneeling in the snow, motionless. The person seemed frozen in time, unmoving despite the biting cold.
"You've got to be kidding me," Walter muttered, unslinging his rifle and readying it. His voice was tense, cutting through the icy air. "Jack, get behind me."
Jack obeyed silently, instinctively pulling out his ice ax. "Did you see someone? Are they friendly?" he asked, trying to understand what had made Walter so cautious.
"There's someone out there, but they're not moving," Walter replied, eyes fixed on the figure. "He might not be alone." His voice was edged with suspicion, the possibility of a trap weighing heavily on his mind.
"It could be a trap," Jack echoed, his own doubts surfacing as he tightened his grip on the ax.
"We'll see," Walter said, his jaw set. He glanced back at Jack, his voice firm. "If it is a trap, I want you to run back to the city and warn the captain."
"After reaching this far? I'm not leaving you behind, Walter," Jack retorted, his voice resolute. The cold seemed to amplify his determination; he wouldn't abandon his friend, no matter the danger.
"Stay close, and keep an eye out," Walter instructed, his voice low. Jack tucked Boris's head in for safety. They advanced cautiously, their footsteps crunching softly in the snow, each step closing the distance between them and the mysterious figure.
As they drew nearer, it became increasingly clear that the person was alone. If there were others hiding nearby, the blizzard made it impossible to spot any of them. The figure remained still, almost like a statue.
Walter halted a few feet away, his rifle at the ready. "Hey, you there!" he called out, his voice sharp and commanding. The words echoed across the frozen landscape, carried by the wind.
The figure did not respond, remaining as still as ever. Walter's concern deepened, but he pushed forward, his rifle lowered slightly. "Are you okay? Hey." he asked, his voice softening as he approached the man.
He reached out, gently nudging the figure's shoulder. The man slumped over, collapsing into the snow, his body lifeless and unresponsive. The sudden movement seemed to jar him awake, and he weakly attempted to move his arms and legs, his movements slow and feeble.
Jack, realizing the man posed no threat, rushed forward to help. "Walter, he's dying!" he exclaimed, panic edging into his voice as he knelt beside the stranger.
Walter, assessing the situation, decided they needed to act quickly. "Give him something warm to drink," he instructed, his voice calm but urgent. They carefully turned the man over, revealing a gaunt face streaked with snow, his clothes stiff and frozen.
But as they got a clearer view, Walter's eyes widened at the sight of the stranger's attire.
"He's an American... a Union soldier, or at least he was," Walter muttered, brushing away snow from the stranger's worn blue uniform. Though the fabric was weathered, the faded brass buttons and faint insignia on his sleeve unmistakably marked him as a Union soldier, reminiscent of the Civil War era. "This guy served... but in a war from a long time ago."
Walter continued to clear the snow from the stranger's sleeve, revealing two faded yellow chevrons stitched onto the fabric.
Jack noticed Walter's focus and asked, "What do those symbols mean?"
"A corporal," Walter replied, recognizing the rank immediately. "So he's got some experience under his belt." His tone was thoughtful as he considered the significance of a seasoned soldier being out here alone.
He also noticed two yellow stripes at the fore section of the sleeves. "Ten years of service," Walter continued, "He must still be in service since the Civil War."
"Can you hear us?" Walter asked again, gently shaking the man's shoulder. The stranger's eyelids fluttered, but he was barely conscious, his body limp. "He's alive, but just barely. It might be extreme hypothermia," Jack observed, pulling out a thermos flask. He poured hot water into a cup and brought it to the man's lips, encouraging him to drink.
Walter worked to remove the ice encrusted on the stranger's clothing, pulling him close to share body heat. "It's going to be okay," he whispered, more to reassure himself and Jack than the unconscious man. They were in a race against time, trying to stave off the cold's deadly grip.
After a few sips of the warm water, the man's eyes fluttered open, and he managed to speak in a faint, raspy voice. "H-help me… Winterhome," he murmured, his words barely audible above the wind.
Both Jack and Walter were stunned. "Winterhome? Did he just say Winterhome? What happened there?" Jack asked, his voice shaky with concern.
"I don't know," Walter replied, his mind racing. "But we need to get him back to New London."
"What!? No. Walter, he won't survive the trip back. That's half a day away to get there!" Jack protested, urgency in his voice. "We should head to Winterhome now—who knows how many others are in danger like him?"
"We can't take him there in this condition. We need shelter first," Walter argued, his brow furrowed in thought. "But where can we find that out here?"
They both paused, their eyes scanning the desolate, snow-covered landscape, searching for a solution. Then, almost simultaneously, a realization dawned on them.
"The torch!" they exclaimed in unison, their minds locking onto the same idea—the one beacon of hope they had in this frozen wilderness.
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The torches were set and lit, placed strategically on four corners to form a barrier of heat amidst the howling blizzard. What seemed to be a good plan turned out to be fruitless as the cold winds were too relentless for the torches, making the small flame only to flicker precariously, helplessly.
Just like them.
"This blizzard is too cold, the heat won't be enough to reach him." Walter said, observing its effects to no avail. Walter continues to hold the stranger close to his body, hoping that it was able to warm at least his chest to keep the heart warm enough to keep beating.
"He's not moving. A few twitches here and there, but no promising signs of recovering. Jack, I think he might not make it. Who knows how long he was out here." Walter said.
Jack groaned to himself in frustration, not wanting to give up just yet, he grabbed one of the torches and held it closer to the stranger.
"There has to be a way to get him to safety. He's too exposed out here." Jack said.
Walter looks at Jack for a moment before lifting the stranger up slightly to open his backpack and begins rummaging through his things, surprising Jack in the process, "Walter, what the heck are you doing!?"
But Walter didn't respond to Jack, instead he was ignored as Walter mutters to himself looking frantically as he continues to go through the contents of the stranger's backpack.
Jack, feeling frustrated at Walter's unresponsive behavior and violating the stranger's privacy of belongings, gave a push on Walter's shoulder to get his attention, "Walter, this is not the time to do something like this, he's not even dead yet. We can't steal from him!"
"I'm not stealing from him! I'm looking for something." Walter finally responded but in his own irritated way.
"What are you looking for!?" Jack yelled.
Walter stops and finally pulls out a folded piece of paper, and unfolds it onto the snow, revealing it to be the stranger's map marked with its own information. Quickly scanning through it, it gave what Walter was hoping for and let out a sigh of relief.
"Ah ha!" Walter yelled in content as he pointed down at the map where it had a drawing of a generator with its coordinate marked. Jack looks down at the map and his expression changes in an instant.
"Here, this is where Winterhome is. It's a lot closer than we think, if we're fast enough, we can bring him back there. He'll have a better chance than bringing him back to New London." Walter said.
Jack paused, considering Walter's words. His initial hesitation faded as he realized that, despite his reservations, it was the best option they had. The stranger's condition was deteriorating, and every moment they spent arguing could be the difference between life and death.
"Yeah... you're right," Jack said, nodding slowly. "Winterhome is closer. It's our only shot."
But another concern gnawed at him. Jack glanced down at the unconscious man, then back to Walter. "Any ideas on how we are supposed to carry him? We're both exhausted and the snow's only getting worse."
Walter, already anticipating the question, gave a brief nod toward their packs. "We'll use the sleds. It's not going to be easy, but it's our best chance of getting him there fast."
Walter and Jack wasted no time. The howling winds made it difficult to hear each other, but the urgency in their actions said it all. Jack hurriedly unpacked the sleds, laying them flat on the snow as Walter knelt beside the unconscious man, gently shifting his limp body.
"We need to be careful," Walter muttered, pulling out a roll of rope from his pack. "He's already in bad shape—any sudden jolt might make it worse."
Jack nodded in agreement, cradling the stranger's head as they eased him onto the sled. The man's breath was shallow, his face pale against the snow-covered terrain. Jack's hands shook—not from the cold, but from the pressure of making sure the man was secured properly. The blizzard wasn't letting up, and the last thing they needed was for him to fall off during transport.
They worked in sync, securing the ropes around his body, tying him down carefully but tightly enough to keep him in place. Jack paused, noticing the cracked remnants of the stranger's heat lamp strapped to his belt, its flickering light long dead.
"He's not gonna last without some warmth," Jack said, pulling one of his own heat lamps from his pack and tucked it inside the man's coat, close to his chest, hoping it would be enough to keep him stable until they reached Winterhome.
"There, that should help," Jack muttered, his voice tinged with hope.
Walter glanced at the sleds, then to Jack. "It's not much, but it'll have to do. Let's move before he gets any worse out here."
With the stranger secured, Jack and Walter exchanged a final glance. There was no time for hesitation.
"You ready?" Walter asked, gripping the sled's ropes tightly.
"Yeah," Jack replied, securing his pack. "Let's get him to Winterhome."
The wind howled around them, whipping snow against their faces as they steeled themselves for the journey ahead. With one final tug, they set off, dragging the sleds through the unforgiving snowstorm.
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The blizzard had worsened, the relentless wind biting at their exposed skin as Jack and Walter trudged forward, the sleds in tow. Their snowshoes crunched underfoot, keeping them from sinking into the deep snow, but the effort was exhausting.
Jack's breath came in labored puffs as he struggled to keep up. "I hope the map is right… ," he muttered under his breath. Boris roared as he looked at the stranger in the sled.
Walter, leading the way, glanced back at Jack, his goggles already frosted over. "It has to be. We can't afford to turn back now."
Jack sighed, his eyes still filled with concern for the veteran. Boris, the little polar bear companion on their journey, was restless. His small paws shuffled nervously as he observed the stranger on the sled.
Gently, Jack lifted Boris from his pack and placed him atop the veteran's chest. Boris snuggled down, his furry body pressing against the stranger in an earnest attempt to provide additional warmth. The bear's soft, rhythmic breathing and the warmth from his tiny frame contrasted starkly with the freezing environment around them.
Jack watched, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the gravity of their situation. Boris's instinctive gesture seemed to offer a comforting touch, bridging the gap between their own struggles and the hope of saving another life.
As Jack and Walter staggered through the blizzard, the formidable silhouette of Winterhome loomed ahead.
They approached a massive docking bay, its entrance gaping like the maw of some great beast. The fresh, deep tracks embedded in the snow, stretching away into the distance, hinted at the recent departure of the colossal vehicle.
It had clearly moved not long ago, leaving behind a sense of urgency and foreboding.
"Where is the welcome party?" Jack said, with a slight joking tone to lift the heavy mood. His attempt at humor fell flat against the stark reality of the empty docking bay and the fresh tracks leading away to god knows where.
The silence that followed his words felt heavy, underscoring the urgency and uncertainty of their arrival. Walter's gaze remained fixed on the tracks, his expression a mix of concern and contemplation, as they both braced themselves for whatever awaited them inside Winterhome.
The bay's wooden walls, streaked with frost, seemed to shimmer against the snow. The snow-drenched landscape outside contrasted sharply with the relative shelter of the docking area. Walter and Jack, their breaths visible in the chill, exchanged worried and unsure glances as they finally reached the entrance.
The faint hum of machinery and the distant echo of activity from within suggested that Winterhome was still somewhat operational, but the recent departure of their colossal vehicle left a lingering uncertainty about the state of the settlement.
"Walter, wait. Look," Jack said, his voice trembling as he pointed at the veteran. The fear in his tone was unmistakable as Walter turned and rushed back to the sled.
Walter knelt beside the veteran, his hands shaking slightly as he checked for any signs of life. "Hey, are you still with us?" he asked, his voice strained with anxiety.
Jack's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Walter. Desperation clawed at him, and he whispered a silent prayer, hoping against hope that their efforts hadn't been in vain.
Walter shook the veteran gently but firmly, his eyes wide with concern. "Come on, stay with us. We've made it this far. You need to hold on."
The silence that followed was deafening, and the tension between them grew thicker. Jack could hardly breathe, his gaze locked on the veteran's still form. Every second felt like an eternity, each one dragging on with the weight of their hope and fear.
Just as Jack's hope began to wane, the veteran's eyelids fluttered weakly. Walter's face brightened with a flicker of relief, though he remained cautious. "Hang in there. We're not giving up on you," he said, his voice a mix of relief and determination.
Jack, his hands trembling, reached for the veteran's hand. "We're here now. You're safe. Just hold on a little longer."
Not willing to waste any more time, Walter stood up resolutely and grabbed the reins of the sleds. "We need to get him inside. Now," he said, his voice brooking no argument.
Jack nodded, quickly stowing Boris back in his backpack before rushing to assist. "On it," he replied, his voice steady despite the tension.
Together, they maneuvered the sleds into the docking bay, the crunch of the snow beneath their boots punctuating their hurried steps. They carefully pulled the veteran and stopped under the roof of the bay, relieved to finally have some shelter from the brutal cold.
Walter's focus remained on the veteran as he assessed their new surroundings, his determination to save him unwavering. "Let's make sure he's warm and comfortable. We can't afford to lose him now."
Jack, still feeling the weight of the moment, nodded and began preparing any available resources to aid in their efforts. "We'll do everything we can," he said, his voice resolute as they worked together to provide the veteran with the care he desperately needed.
In their haste, they found a small room and quickly assembled a makeshift fireplace, burning spare wood salvaged from nearby crates and barrels. The crackle of the flames was a welcome relief now that there was little wind, but an unsettling metal grinding sound from somewhere in the city kept Walter on edge.
Meanwhile, Jack scoured the area for anything he could use to keep the veteran warm. He gathered makeshift blankets, ensuring the veteran, now positioned close to the fire, was covered as thoroughly as possible. The warmth from the fire began to cast a hopeful glow over the scene, and Jack worked diligently to ensure their efforts provided the best chance for recovery.
"Make sure there aren't any drafts getting through the walls. Once you're done, meet me outside. Something's very wrong with this place. And I got a lot of questions. Get your gun ready just in case," Walter instructed, checking his rifle before heading out into the cold.
Jack nodded, watching Walter leave before turning his attention to the room. He worked quickly to ensure it was adequately insulated for the veteran's survival. Once satisfied, Jack checked his own equipment and weapon. Boris, sensing the tension, let out a worried roar as he glanced back at the veteran.
"He'll be alright, Boris. The room should be warm enough to help him recover," Jack reassured the little bear. "Let's go meet Walter outside. There's still something we need to investigate."
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A/N: Sorry for the wait.
Just to be clear, I am not sure what types of personnel were in Winterhome, other than it was confirmed to be a military one. Mostly British presence, and maybe a few other nationals in there. Other Americans would likely be present, aside from Tesla City.
A small shout out to the Stupendium for the release of his new music video on Frostpunk 2.
I hope that the anticipated Winterhome is good. I was having a little bit of a choice on how to get it across. The scripted man from winterhome and how Jack and Walter would react to the emptiness and eerie atmosphere when they arrive.
I don't do this often, but I am willing to add the character suggested by a reader. And I did, the uniform scene should be plenty enough on who it might be. But I am not too clear on the info given, hopefully I got most of it (the uniform) right.
Now the next part is going to take a while again, it is an important and one of the biggest turning points of the game and story. Jack and Walter will face a considerably big event.
Look forward to that and how they handle the situation.
Thank you all so much for reading.
