The blizzard returns once more as if to mock or to intentionally slow down Jack and Walter's journey back to New London. As the sun sets, visible light and natural heat was no longer available, leaving only to rely on their heat lamps to keep themselves warm.
Children that had no power left in their lamps were given working ones by their parents. Jack still wanted to give his lamps to whoever needs it more than him, but knowing Walter, he would know if Jack were to attempt that again.
They have made a considerable distance from the campsite, but with the decision of walking around the outskirts of the forest to avoid the tough terrain and the lingering danger of wolves, it would still take a longer time to get back.
The presence of the night remains a constant reminder of Jack and Walter's mission. The food and medicine seem to give some strength back to the survivors, but now they would have to spend it all on getting themselves to safety while looking behind them ever so often for the wolves.
Jack lets out deep breaths as he readjusted his coat and shivers off the cold, even if his body shakes with so much chill within his veins, he is still not showing any signs of slowing down. Walter didn't know if Jack was just keeping a strong facade for the survivors, or he was just that committed to his job.
"This blizzard is harsh, I think the drought would be much better than this," Jack said through his chuckle. Walter looks up from his map, doing his best not to start shaking as he attempts to move his muscles in throat to speak, "I don't know if I can agree with you on that, Jack. Freezing sounds a lot better than burning to death. It's less agonizing that way, if it was possible, I'd rather die somewhere warm."
"We should ask the captain and the engineers to make some better clothing, these coats are barely keeping us warm. The wind keeps creeping through my sleeves and chilling me every second." Jack said, gesturing his arms out to exaggerate.
Walter rolled his eyes, "I get it, Jack. We're all cold right now. As much as I hate it too, we better get used to it. You still got your heat lamp, so you're not completely cold." he said, returning his attention back to his map.
"Oh, bloody wonderful, mate." Jack sighs.
Their conversation was interrupted by the worried cries of a child, causing everyone to stop and turn toward the source of the noise. Jack and Walter were quick to rush over to see what the problem was.
Upon arriving down the line, they stopped to find someone collapsed in the snow, arms wrapped tightly around their body as they shook violently from the cold. His heat lamp was not working. "What happened?" Jack asked as he knelt down and carefully tended to the shivering man.
The frost had nearly concealed the shivering man in ice, but he was still breathing just barely as his body continued to shake violently.
"He was shaking like this a while ago, but then he stopped walking and fell on the ground," the child that made the cries explained. "He was the one that gave me his lamp and took mine. And he's dying because of me." The child added, tears welling up in their eyes.
Jack placed a comforting hand on the child's shoulder. "It's not your fault. Don't blame yourself," he said to comfort the child. "Is anyone else on the verge of collapsing?" he asked, scanning the group for any signs of distress.
Unfortunately, there were a handful of hands raised, all from those who had swapped their working lamps with those who needed them more. Jack had a slight panic, but Walter was calm as he stepped in with a suggestion. "We need to make more heat. Torches would be fine; we're still next to the dead forest. We can gather some wood and make them. I have some flammable stuff to use, but we'll need some cloth to keep the fire burning."
Jack turned to Walter. "But that would take time. You said we can't afford to waste time with the wolves on us," he said, concern etched on his face.
Walter sighed. "I know what I said, but we can make torches to help fend off the wolves too. Think about it, Jack. Don't just focus on one thing at a time. Out here, we'll need more than one solution to every problem," he said.
Walter knelt and removed his pack to retrieve the material necessary to make the torches. "I need some of you to find any sticks big enough to use. Just don't go too far into the forest," Walter instructed. A few able-bodied individuals split from the group and ventured into the trees to find some wood to use, while the rest chose which part of their clothing to rip to soak for the flame.
"But what about him?" Jack asked, gesturing to the shivering man. "I need to give him my heat lamp. He's not going to make it if we don't help him now," Jack said, concern evident in his voice.
Walter knew what he was hinting at, and he didn't like it one bit. But arguing about it would only waste more time, and no one else was willing enough to share theirs, "Do it," Walter nodded, allowing Jack to give one of his heat lamps to the shivering man. "The rest of you should swap your lamps from time to time, share the heat around. We're all in this together, so let's keep each other alive," Jack said, his desperation evident.
The group soon returned with armfuls of sticks. "Not bad; these look thick enough," Walter said as he found a bottle of flammable liquid in his pack. However, there were no lighters or matchsticks to be found. Walter let out a frustrated sigh. "Damn, I forgot to pack anything to make a fire," he said.
But one of the survivors walked up and handed him their flint and steel. "I can help. I've used this to make a fire back at our camp," they said.
Walter nodded with relief. "Great, come here and help me," he said, hastily but carefully constructing the torches, grabbing pieces of cloth around the tips and adding a few drops of flammable liquid onto the fabric, working meticulously as he tried to make them.
Meanwhile, Jack and the others kept watch of their surroundings. "Will he be alright?" The crying child asked, looking at Jack with worry.
The shivering had stopped slightly, but he was not showing any signs of waking up. Jack gave a reassuring smile. "Of course, don't worry. I promise, he'll make it. Do you know him?" Jack asked, trying to distract the child from their distress.
The child nodded. "I don't know him well, but he took care of me after we got separated from the main group. I lost my parents, and I was alone. He gave me his heat lamp because he didn't want me to die from the cold."
Jack nods, it brings a small hope that in times like this there was still kindness in a world so cold to feel anything.
Walter finishes the first batch of ready-made torches and holds them up for the other survivor to create a spark from his flint and steel. A few sparks were made, but none had managed to light them up. Silent prayers and hopeful gazes were on Walter as he too was praying a little for the torches to work.
Rapid sparks were made in frustration as the survivor did his best to create a fire.
Then, as if to taunt them once more, a low audible growl could be heard that broke their hopeful silence. Heads were turned and many were in a state of panic as familiar sets of glowing eyes were visible in the darkness.
The tension was palpable as Walter and the survivor struggled to ignite the torches, their hopes hinging on the flickering sparks from the flint and steel.
Each failed attempt heightened the sense of urgency, especially as the distant growls of the approaching wolves grew louder. Jack, poised with his ice ax, symbolized their last line of defense against the encroaching danger.
"Damn it, come on, light it up," Walter urged, his voice strained with desperation, echoing the collective anxiety of the group. Jack's own urgency was evident as he urged Walter to hasten his efforts, the imminent threat of the wolves looming ever closer.
Then, in a surge of determination, the survivor struck the flint and steel once more, igniting a small spark that blossomed into a burst of flames upon the waiting torches. Relief flooded through the group as the torches blazed to life, their warm glow pushing back the encroaching darkness and casting defiant shadows.
With their makeshift weapons alight, the survivors grabbed a torch and stood ready to confront the approaching wolves, their resolve strengthened by the flickering flames.
As Jack clutched the torch, its radiant warmth coursed through his fingers, a beacon of both physical and metaphorical light amidst the encroaching darkness. With each flicker of the flames, a flicker of hope ignited within him, bolstering his confidence in their ability to survive the impending threat.
As the wolves materialized from the shadows, their predatory forms illuminated by the glow of the torches, Jack's grip tightened on the makeshift weapon. The collective efforts of the survivors had transformed the once formidable darkness into a realm of defiant light, pushing back against the encroaching beasts.
"Mind the fire, keep your distance," Walter cautioned, his voice steady and authoritative as he readied his rifle for action. The glow of the flames danced upon the barrel of his weapon, casting an eerie yet resolute light upon his determined expression.
In a flurry of motion, the scene erupted into a battle of survival, where every movement carried the weight of life and death. As the wolf lunged towards its intended prey, Walter's swift reaction proved decisive.
With precision born of necessity, he took aim and unleashed a single shot, the bullet finding its mark and bringing down the predator before it could inflict harm.
Yet, the victory was short-lived as the rest of the pack surged forward, their primal instincts driving them into a frenzied assault. Spears clashed against fangs, and desperate cries mingled with the sound of snapping jaws.
Amidst the chaos, the torches became weapons of their own, their fiery embrace warding off the advancing predators.
Walter fought with unwavering resolve, his rifle a steadfast guardian against the onslaught. But the wolves were relentless, their onslaught unyielding as they pressed forward with savage determination. Meanwhile, Jack danced amidst the chaos, his every move a calculated evasion or a decisive strike with his trusty ax.
As the wolf lunged towards Jack, its jaws snapping hungrily at the torches, he reacted with swift reflexes. With a deft maneuver, he used the torch as a barrier, preventing the wolf from sinking its teeth into him. Seizing the moment, Jack delivered a decisive blow with his ax, the blade finding its mark with lethal precision as it struck true under the beast's neck, bringing it crashing down.
But even as Jack dispatched one adversary, the onslaught continued unabated. Another survivor's cry echoed through the chaos, a testament to the relentless assault they faced. Walter's voice cut through the clamor, a rallying call to hold their ground and defy the encroaching tide of predators.
Yet, just as despair threatened to overwhelm them, salvation arrived in the form of distant gunfire. Bright flashes illuminated the darkness as a lever-action rifle unleashed its deadly payload, each shot finding its mark with deadly accuracy.
The relentless barrage of bullets struck down the wolves one by one, their once fierce advance faltering in the face of such relentless firepower. With their ranks thinned and their resolve shaken, the surviving wolves turned tail and fled, vanishing into the shadows from whence they came.
The survivors exchanged weary glances as they caught their breath, the adrenaline of battle slowly ebbing away to reveal the toll it had taken on their bodies. Walter's voice cut through the tension, "Is everyone alright?" His authoritative tone commanded attention as he sought to assess the aftermath of the skirmish.
Hands timidly rose in response to his inquiry, each gesture a silent admission of the wounds they bore, both seen and unseen. Despite the toll exacted by the wolves' onslaught, there was a collective sense of relief that no lives had been lost in the fray.
Amidst the murmurs of gratitude and speculation, a debate arose regarding the identity and intentions of their mysterious benefactor. Some voiced doubts about the stranger's motives, questioning why they had not intervened sooner if indeed they were allies.
"There is definitely someone out there, might be the same ones that killed those wolves from earlier. But we don't know if they are friendly," said a survivor.
"They saved us before, shouldn't that count for something?"
"If they were there before, then why didn't they help us earlier on?"
But Walter swiftly quelled the dissent, his words carrying the weight of experience and pragmatism. With a firm command, he silenced the bickering and refocused their attention on the task at hand—survival. In his eyes, the stranger's actions spoke louder than words, offering a lifeline in their darkest hour.
"Everyone, that's enough." Walter said to stop the argument, "We need to patch ourselves and keep moving. Whoever had helped us is surely on our side, if they weren't we'd be dead by now. Stop arguing and let's move."
With Walter's directive echoing in their ears, the survivors set aside their doubts and grievances, banding together once more in a united front. With wounds tended and resolve renewed, they resumed their journey, guided by the flickering light of hope amidst the encroaching darkness.
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Dexter's hands moved with practiced efficiency as he reloaded his rifle, the rhythmic click-clack of cartridges sliding into the chamber a comforting reassurance in the stillness of the snowy landscape. He couldn't afford to let his guard down, not when the threat of danger lurked just beyond the horizon.
As he watched the survivors below, a begrudging sense of admiration stirred within him. Despite the harsh conditions and the ever-present danger, they had shown remarkable resilience in the face of adversity. Crafting torches from whatever scraps they could find was a testament to their resourcefulness, a quality Dexter could respect.
But his momentary praise was tempered by a lingering sense of caution. The display of firepower had undoubtedly alerted the survivors to his presence, making it clear that they were being watched. It was a calculated risk, one borne out of necessity rather than choice, yet Dexter couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered in the back of his mind.
With a heavy sigh, he shifted his gaze back to the group below, his eyes scanning the scene for any signs of trouble. The urgency with which they tended to their wounds and collected the wolf carcasses spoke volumes about their determination to survive, their actions driven by a primal instinct for self-preservation.
For a moment, Dexter entertained the idea of drawing closer to the group, of offering his protection in exchange for their trust. But years of solitude and hardship had taught him the value of caution, the importance of keeping one's distance in a world where alliances were fragile, and betrayal was commonplace.
And so, he remained where he was, a silent observer in the cold embrace of the wilderness, his presence a silent sentinel against the dangers that lurked in the shadows. As the survivors moved ever onward, their fate entwined with his own, Dexter could only watch and wait, his resolve unyielding in the face of uncertainty.
With a sense of determination, Dexter slung his lever-action rifle over his shoulder and set off after the group, his footsteps muffled by the thick blanket of snow beneath him. The journey ahead would be fraught with danger and uncertainty, but he couldn't afford to let fear hold him back.
As he trailed behind the survivors, his mind raced with thoughts of what they might encounter at the ravine. The prospect of discovering something unexpected filled him with a mixture of apprehension and excitement, driving him forward despite the bitter cold that gnawed at his bones.
His partner, Cooper, would most probably be angry with him about following the group all the way north. But this was something Dester couldn't ignore, not when he had already come this far. He had hoped that the group of brits were still able enough to make it back to their home.
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A/N: Now this is different from the original version. Dexter, coming in for the clutch.
I decided to add in a new scene where Jack and Walter were faced with a choice to share one of their heat lamps. To the lost expedition, while their gear would risk the chance of getting frozen. People's lives at this time were still important.
Just a way to show the difficult choices of survival.
And an actual fight scene with the wolves. It would be stupid if I did the same and retreat from the last chapter. So, a proper fight had to be in order, and leaving for Dexter to save them from their struggle. The bridge chapter will have to be split into parts. The Steel bridge is an important piece of plot and to the game, so this has to be longer.
I'm not sure if I will be using Dexter and Copper more often, as of now they will be on hold as they are already off-canon to the game.
But I am very pleased with the new changes, the interactions with the survivors, Jack's humility. Walter's doubts. And the struggle to get the people back to New London.
Thank you all so much for reading.