The Will To Live✔️

Chapter 36: Extraction Point

They managed to make it to the navpoint and found the ranger's station without running into anymore Combat Forms.

That was about the only good thing that happened in the wake of the battle.

The snow had picked up, cutting visibility a bit and dropping the temperature further. Greg ended up lagging behind a bit to make sure nothing was following them, not the surviving Combat Forms and not any vargs that may have found their courage again with the defeat of the small army of Flood. Or anything else that was looking to kill them. As he followed the navpoint, trudging through the snow, trying to hurry up as he'd lost sight of everyone by then, the trees suddenly stopped coming and he found himself in a clearing.

The group materialized one by one through the snowfall.

"What's happening?" he asked as he moved to join them.

"We were waiting for you," Izzy replied. "Also..."

She gestured ahead of them. As he came to stand next to her, he saw what the problem was. The ranger's station was built up onto a rise in the land, giving it a decently commanding view of the area. But even from this distance he could see the devastation. Shattered windows, broken bodies hanging out of them, both Flood and human, lots of frozen blood. Though he could hear nothing but the gusts of wind.

With a sigh, he checked his battle rifle once more. "Izzy, with me. Everyone else, wait here and keep watch," he said, and set off towards the wooden stairway that led up. Izzy followed after him and together they mounted the stairs. Their pace was steady, wary of anything that might leap out at them, but Greg had the notion that any survivors of this battle were dead or gone by now. They reached the deck that ringed the entire exterior of the building. It was littered with Combat Forms, the pulped remains of Infection Forms, and shell casings.

So many of them among the falling snow.

"Come on," Greg muttered, pushing his way through the front entrance. There was no movement inside. They took a moment to clear it and Greg looked over the miserable, wrecked interior. It was an ugly place. Glass, blood, trash, spent shell casings, and dead bodies littered the floor. The furniture had all been pushed up against the windows in a last-ditch effort to create a makeshift barricade, but it had obviously failed.

Hell, there was a hole in the ceiling. He saw snow drifting in, gathering on the floor. It looked like there wasn't much in the way of guns around, though he couldn't know if that was because the Combat Forms had gathered them or because survivors had done so. Or if someone else had come here in between the last stand and now. Either way, it didn't matter. What mattered was that there was nothing hiding among the debris, and that Greg saw perhaps their only salvation on the other side of the ranger's station.

"Izzy, look," he said.

She came to stand by him. "Looks like it could run, maybe."

Another snow Carrier Warthog. He was dubious about whether or not it would run, as he imagined if it could run or was easily fixable, other survivors would have done so already. But maybe there hadn't been time, or maybe there had been no other survivors.

"Wait here," Greg said, and moved back over to the front door. "Get up here, people!" he called.

A moment later, everyone had gathered inside.

"We're secure for the moment. Laney, keep an eye outside and let us know if anything's sneaking up on us. Coretti, Breaker, Turner, search this place for anything useful or a map or any clue as to where we might find a working radio or a bigger, better location to get to. There's a Warthog down there, and Izzy and I are going to go check on it."