Hunting Wolfe

Alone

Heat radiates from the roaring flames, so intense that my skin feels on the brink of blistering. The fire crackles fiercely, devouring any fuel it can find, growing larger and more menacing by the second. The air around me is suffused with a thick, oppressive smoke that coils into my lungs, attempting to choke the life out of me. Thoughts flicker through my mind about Almex, safely tucked away in my backpack, yet I dare not pause to check on him. Pausing now means certain death. Clamping my shirt tightly over my nose and mouth, I press forward with determination. Caydon races ahead, his figure barely discernible through the smoky haze. A quick glance over my shoulder reveals Aceon bringing up the rear, his silhouette framed by the inferno behind us.

"Keep moving! Don't worry about me," Aceon calls out, his voice rasping through the dense smoke as he fights off a coughing fit.

I whip my head back around to see Caydon rapidly punching buttons on a control panel next to a door. With a soft, almost imperceptible whoosh, the door slides open, offering a glimpse into a small, cramped room beyond.

"Get in," Caydon commands, urgency coloring his tone.

"What about you guys?" I shout over the chaos, hesitating at the threshold.

"We'll be right behind you," Aceon assures me, his words carried on a current of smoke and fire.

I scramble into the suffocating confines, my breath rapid and shallow as the door seals behind me with a loud, sterile hiss. The cramped space forces me to crouch awkwardly as I fight to remove my backpack, each movement a struggle. Once I finally untangle myself, I collapse into the narrow seat, eyes instantly drawn to the three-point harness beside me. With deliberate precision, I secure the harness, carefully tucking the backpack's straps under it as well. Almex stirs inside the bag, and without hesitation, I zip it shut, the sound harsh and irrevocable. It's the first time I've confined him this tightly, and the zipper's metallic rasp feels disturbingly definitive.

Through the small, circular window, I catch a last glimpse of Caydon, Aceon, and the colossal ship, now dwindling as my pod is ruthlessly expelled from its docking bay. An unearthly silence wraps around me, broken only by the muted hum of surrounding machinery. The solitude is oppressive, magnified by the absence of any other voices. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the pod starts to spin, the residual force of the ejection asserting itself. A deafening boom erupts, and a fierce jolt propels the ship forward. As the pod steadily rotates back towards the ship, my eyes widen in horror at the sight of the entire vessel consumed by violent flames. In that fleeting instant before it's out of view, I spot three other pods being flung into the inky void. Now turning to face the planet below, I notice at least six massive satellites orbiting it, their silent presence imposing and otherworldly, like guardians of a forbidden realm.

Encased in a metallic cocoon, the infinite silence of space envelops me as I spin through the void, my eyes fixed on three other pods. One by one, they are pulled with inevitable force toward the looming planet below. The vastness around me is a canvas of darkness, endless and impenetrable, a crushing weight on my consciousness. Here, time is a slippery illusion—minutes could be hours, hours could be days. Alone and untethered, I float, lost in a disorienting spiral, every thought gnawing at my sanity. The chilling reality of uncertainty coils around my mind. What if the planet's gravity slips away from me, leaving me to drift in this endless abyss, counting down the moments until my oxygen runs out and the void claims me? The dread tightens its grip on my soul as I contemplate the alternative: getting caught in the gravitational pull, hurtling through the atmosphere, only to become a ball of fire streaking across the sky.

Survival isn't a comforting thought. If by some miracle I endure the descent, new fears emerge. Will the pod's braking systems activate as planned, or will they fail, dragging me into a cataclysmic crash? Questions swarm, each one more daunting than the last, building into a relentless tide. What if, despite everything going perfectly, I never find my friends? The planet, vast and unexplored, awaits below; they have already been drawn to its surface, leaving me to bridge the expanse alone. Or maybe it was a mistake to leave Earth, in the first place. The words of Wolfe's holographic recording echo in my head, a spectral voice urging me to have stayed behind. The unending uncertainty is a feral beast, gnawing at my courage, yet in this silent and endless void, it's all I have. If only there was a way to steer this cursed pod.

A sudden, violent jolt snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts. The cold, mechanical voice of the ship's computer cuts through the tension, its artificial calmness announcing, "We have entered the atmosphere of Thaydon Five." My eyes dart to the small window beside me. The vast, inky blackness of space begins to dissolve, giving way to a brilliant, cerulean sky. The transition is gradual but unmistakable, as if the universe itself is peeling back layers of night to reveal the hidden daytime. We plummet towards the planet's surface, the ship shuddering and groaning as it slices through the atmosphere.

Emerald canopies of trees begin to emerge far beneath me, their verdant crowns a striking contrast to the endless expanse of sky above. The thick, leafy tops sway gently in the wind, an ocean of green that beckons yet threatens. I inhale sharply, a potent mix of anticipation and dread churning within me, muscles tensing in preparation for the unavoidable impact. In an instant, a brutal jolt propels me forward with relentless force. My forehead collides with the unforgiving, icy surface of the pod's interior, and pain erupts in my skull, sharp and unrelenting. My fingers grip my backpack in a vice-like hold, ensuring Almex remains steadfastly secured amid the pandemonium. The shoddy safety harness digs into my skin, a token gesture of protection that has abandoned its duty. "Some good that did me." I mutter, annoyed.

A computerized voice echoes through the confined space, "Safety check in progress, please wait." The mechanical tone fades, leaving behind an anxious silence. Moments creep by before the voice returns, "There is some slight damage to the hull of the pod." Another pause, more drawn out than the last, adds to the mounting tension. Then, the voice reassures, "Safety check, complete. Atmospheric conditions are suitable for human life. Pod is on level ground. You are now free to leave the pod." A sharp beep slices through the stillness, followed by a loud, rushing whoosh that fills my ears. The edges of the pod begin to glow softly as the top section starts to rise slowly, allowing a cascade of light to flood the confined interior. Each ray of light reveals more details of the world outside, beckoning me to step out and breathe the alien air.

With a silent groan, I slowly hoist myself to my feet, every joint protesting after being cramped in the pod for what feels like an eternity. Each movement feels laborious, as if my muscles have forgotten how to stretch and flex properly. I step out of the pod, blinking against the sudden brightness, and find myself enveloped by lush, verdant surroundings. Towering trees, their trunks gnarled and wrapped in vines, stretch endlessly towards the canopy, their leaves creating a patchwork of dappled sunlight on the forest floor. These towering giants of flora seem both welcoming and ominous, foreign in their somber beauty.

A nudge from the recesses of my mind brings back vivid fragments of a dream I had on the Lunar Station. In it, I wandered—no, I was pursued—through a forest that felt eerily similar to this one. Could it be the same place? My eyes dart anxiously across the dense underbrush, searching for any sign of danger. The memory of enormous canines, shadows shifting between trees, gnaws at the edges of my mind. Some part of me knows that it was just a dream, and yet, the idea of becoming prey refuses to leave, sending a shiver down my spine. I haven't traversed the void of space just to end up as a woodland creature's next meal.

The forest around me is dense, shadows crisscrossing each other under the canopy of ancient trees, leaves murmuring secrets with every faint gust of wind. I pause, heart pounding against my ribcage, indecision clutching at my chest. Should I silently stalk through the underbrush like a phantom, hoping to stumble upon my friends by sheer luck? Or should I risk everything, letting my voice pierce the quiet, peaceful air? My mind spins with the possibilities, each one darker than the last. The thought of calling out sends chills down my spine — any number of unseen threats, lurking just beyond my vision, could be drawn to my voice. But the alternative is a grim, harrowing death, alone and forgotten, lost in this vast wilderness. The choice weighs on me, as heavy as a boulder.

I take a deep breath, the air tasting of pine and damp earth, and decide to risk it. "Aceon! Caydon!" I shout, my voice trembling, yet echoing through the trees. The silence that follows is agony, stretching longer than a heartbeat. Suddenly, a sharp, indignant squawk pierces the air as a bird flutters out of a nearby bush, its wings a blur of motion. The forest remains otherwise eerily quiet, as if I were the only living being. I continue to walk through the forest occasionally calling out for my friends but getting no reply. Where are they? I swear I saw their escape pods being pulled into the planet's gravity.