- The Next Day - Somewhere in The Mountains -
WHUD...RLLL...SCRRR!
Erik's body hit the ground hard, rolling several times before coming to a stop.
Rrrrr... vroooom...
The jeep roared away, tires kicking up dirt as it sped back down the path it had come from. Leaving him lying there in the dust.
Erik grabbed his bag, which had fallen to the ground beside him.
Inside were a few meager supplies. Some food and water, just enough to last a short while.
He stood up, brushing the dirt off, and stared ahead in disbelief.
Before him stretched a vast expanse of barren land, a seemingly endless stretch of emptiness leading to a distant mountain range.
The scene was surreal as the ground beneath his feet held only a light dusting of snow but farther ahead, the ground was blanketed in thick white, creating a stark contrast.
"That's the mountain." Erik muttered, eyes narrowing as he gazed at the distant peak.
It stood tall and ominous, like a giant waiting for him to approach.
The air was cold but there was no snow yet where he stood.
The ground under his feet was hard and dry, only a thin frost covering patches of earth.
Pulling his long wool jacket tighter around him, Erik felt the bite of the cold sink into his bones.
He knew that the real challenge lay ahead where the snow thickened miles in front of him.
Without hesitating, he began his steady march toward the mountain, eyes set on the distant white-capped peaks that would soon test his resolve.
Erik walked for several hours, until the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the barren landscape.
He found a small spot between rocks that shielded him from the biting wind.
Curling into a tight ball, he shivered uncontrollably his body trembling as the cold pressed into him from all sides.
Every time he managed to drift off, the freezing air jolted him awake.
As the temperature plummeted through the night, the cold became almost unbearable.
By the time dawn broke, Erik was freezing, his fingers under his gloves, numb and stiff.
He forced himself to take a small bite of the stale bread and sipped some water before pushing himself to his feet.
With a determined grimace, he began walking again, eyes fixed on the distant mountain that still loomed ahead.
- One Week Later -
Snow fell in slow, drifting flakes, whispering as it touched the ground. A pale sun hid behind thick clouds, casting the mountainside in a cold, muted light.
The air was thin and sharp, each breath scraping like glass in the lungs. Scattered pines stood stoic against the wind, their needles dusted white, their trunks dark and unyielding.
Erik lay on his back near a small, struggling campfire. The flames snapped and hissed, sending thin tendrils of smoke curling upward before the wind tore them apart.
The heat barely reached him. His body shivered, muscles stiff, every movement too costly in the freezing air.
Beside him knelt a boy. American Indigenous, with long dark hair falling loosely across his shoulders.
The wind tugged at his clothes, but he seemed untouched by the cold, his face calm, voice steady.
"Remember what Mom used to say about the wind?" The boy whispered, eyes fixed on Erik. "The wind cannot defeat a tree with strong roots."
"You are still breathing father…" The boy said, glancing toward the horizon. "I miss her so much."
Erik's eyes closed for a moment, just a moment. But when they opened again, the world was different.
The bite of winter was gone. The snow, the fire, the trees..Gone.
He was standing on the sidewalk of a city street. The air heavy with the smell of exhaust and grilled meat from a nearby hot dog stand. Steam hissed from the vendor's cart, mingling with the sounds of sirens somewhere in the distance.
Then he turned and froze.
Several bodies lay scattered across the street, twisted and broken, faces pale with pain. Some clutched at shattered limbs, others writhed, groaning through bloodied lips.
Shock rooted Erik in place, his mind blank for a heartbeat. He looked at the two fleeing vehicles before his gaze fell to the ground before him.
His breath caught seeing the boy.
The same child who had been speaking to him in the snow.
He lay still, his small body limp, skin pale beneath streaks of blood.
Erik dropped to his knees, his hands trembling as they gathered the boy into his arms. The city noise seemed to fade away until there was only the sound of his own breathing and the quiet weight of the child against him.
Tears slipped down Erik's face. They fell silently, tracing lines along his cheeks as he held the boy close, his fingers curling protectively around him. His jaw clenched painfully.
"I'll be right here…" Erik murmured, his voice thick as he gently wiped the blood from the boy's face. "I'm right here."
He kept his eyes locked on the boy, forcing the words out as steady as he could. "As long as you can still grab a breath… You fight!" His voice was low, urgent. "You breathe… keep—"
"Keep breathing." A woman's voice finished for him.
Erik froze. He knew that voice.
Slowly, he turned toward where it had come from, and his stomach twisted.
Not far away, lying on the cracked pavement, was her body. His wife.
Her arms and legs were bent at impossible angles, crushed under the weight of the car that had run her down. The damage should have stilled her, but her eyes were open, clear, alive and fixed on him.
She was speaking like nothing had happened.
"When there is a storm, and you stand before a tree… If you look at its branches, you'll swear it will fall." She said softly, her tone calm, almost soothing.
Erik's breath quickened. His pulse thudded in his ears.
Then, impossibly, a small bird emerged from between her lips, fluttering into the air with a sharp beat of wings.
Erik's chest tightened. He blinked hard—once.
And the world changed again.
The smell of asphalt and blood was gone, replaced by the dry, heavy scent of earth. He stood in the middle of a vast field of crops, golden stalks swaying gently under a pale sky. But on the horizon… Something broke the calm.
A pyramid.. Small in scale but massive in presence rose from the earth, its shape jagged and grotesque. It was made entirely of human bones, bleached white by the sun, stacked with a horrifying precision.
Erik's gaze climbed the pyramid until it reached the top.. And there she was.
His wife.
Floating above it, her hair moving as if in water, her eyes still fixed on him.
"But if you watch the trunk…" She continued, her voice carrying across the distance as though she stood right beside him. "…You will see its stability."
Erik began to walk forward, each step crunching softly over the dry soil. He came to stand before the pyramid, its base towering over him. The bones were close enough to touch, each one cold and smooth, a thousand empty eye sockets staring out at him from the structure.
He tilted his head back, looking up toward the top—toward her.
But then.. A hand touched his shoulder suddenly pulling him in a dark vortex. Way to fast to be able to react.
Erik jolted awake, his whole body shaking violently. The cold hit him first—deep.. Biting cold that seemed to crawl into his bones. His breath came in short, sharp bursts each exhale fogging in the frigid air.
He sat up slowly, dragging a rough deer pelt tighter around his shoulders.
For a moment, he just sat there, forcing his breathing to steady. Then he pushed himself to his feet and started walking.
The snow crunched faintly beneath his boots as he moved through the white expanse, trees scattered in the distance like sentinels watching his slow progress. Hours passed in silence, the cold gnawing at him with every step.
He hadn't eaten in days. No water either—just snow he'd melted on his tongue, barely enough to wet his throat.
His stomach was a hollow, aching pit. His lips were cracked, his head heavy, his body running on stubborn will alone.
By the time the sun dipped lower, his pace had slowed to a dragging trudge. Then he saw it.
A shape half-buried in snow.
An animal carcass.
Erik's heart kicked, and he stumbled toward it as fast as his stiff legs would carry him. The body was small, maybe a wild goat or a deer.. And it had been dead for days.
The skin was sunken tight over bone, the ribs jutting like blades. Most of the meat had been stripped away by scavengers.
Still, he dropped to his knees beside it. His hands shook as he wrenched at one of the legs, twisting hard until a bone cracked free. Desperation overrode disgust. He brought the splintered bone to his mouth and tore at the scraps of flesh clinging to it—stringy, tough, and probably rotten. The taste was foul, bitter with decay, but he swallowed anyway, forcing it down like medicine.
Every chew was a fight between instinct and revulsion, but he kept going. Because out here, in this cold, nothing else mattered but staying alive.