He is R�ssler, a man who has always dreamed of trekking alone. The day shines its rays through puffy clouds. He prepared for this day by completing a 16-hour online Wilderness First Aid Certificate and trekking with the renowned Asha Trekkers. Each member of their group was an experienced Grade IV hiker with skills in skiing, wildlife safari tours, hiking, and rock climbing.
During one of their cultural tours, he embarked on a challenging trek. At first, he was lively, displaying daring faces until, 20 kilometers in, his breath gave out, his vision blurred, and he lost his way. He was only found thanks to 'Gutsy,' the dog who had traveled with them. The dog completed its 40-kilometer trek, returned to him, and found him.
He sees the canine as hope, a sentiment he has not found in the Asha Trekkers. Their motto is a bit peculiar: "Haunting a prey while it's cold," which neither he can understand nor find helpful.
Remember, a dog found him lying near the uprooted tree.
While he is thankful that he didn't encounter a bear, a deer that seemed to venture further than him may have been mocking him.
So, he picked a training regimen that would not let him put his hope or leg down until he reached his goal. He looked at his desk, where he prepared his journey items.
His boots were a little rough, but they protected him for sure. He didn't want to wear gloves as his hands tend to sweat. He saw there was an ad pamphlet showing the Ad Aqua Bottle - "In a world drained of hope, it's the last bottle you'll ever need... because it's the only one that refills itself!" The prices were too high to fool you; many pamphlets were sleeping on the desk, just one touch and they looted your credit, letting you fall into debt.
While he was looking at the walls full of posters:
"Hike a day, keep you happy"
"I Want to Believe"
"Killer on the rise, Pick a Ride"
Remembering that shame, he improved his fitness, now equal to a top hat physique.
Now ready for adventure, he finds himself in Northern Aral, Myrost, usually known for its harsh cold weather. But now, in summer, he can experience the green environment without any hurdles.
June 03, 20XX. The weather is milder.
He commenced his march towards Otorvek. The weather is good, and the spirits are high. He can smell success in the air!
He glances at the summit, ready for today's hike. The cold and gloomy mountain, infamous for its pass, is not often attempted, even in summer.
He looks happy as he takes his first step towards his goal, but he feels his backpack is chafing. He looks in it and distributes the weight evenly. As he did, he notices a shiny blue metallic-like object in his bag that he never put in it.
Confused, but without any further thought, he throws it out, then presses his finger to his forehead as he feels a headache. With a few more minutes of pressure, he stands and walks steadily forward.
For a while, mid-hours passed, he pondered about his skiing skills he learned just to feel the snow under his feet. It is not used for now, but as an increase in climate turmoil, he feels, "It may be...?"
Reaching the plain area, he sees no sign of life, just a few hopping rabbits and an unusual silence from birds perched on tree barks. There's still some snow left near the grass and between the rocks, while the breeze matches his own breaths. He begins to look everywhere.
Turning back, he sees a flickering lamppost. Under it stands a person dressed in clothing suitable only for harsh winter, an odd choice for this season.
He wants to chat with the stranger as he usually does with ease, but this time, his body refuses him as it senses what he can't...?
Perhaps it's because the man's eyes were closed, under which he saw dark bags as if he hadn't slept for so long.
He has questions, but his body does not obey his desires.
Forced to turn his head forward, he trekked on, with thoughts of the stranger lingering in his mind.
He begins to use his water too much, feeling an unusual thirst. He looks at the sky; clouds still shroud the sun's rays, but he can feel the humidity in the air, making him feel constricted.
Nearby, he sees only green, moist grass. As he rests for a second to catch his breath, he notices one or three blades of grass tied in a knot, as if something has been bound within.
Thrilled, he gets up and tries to untie the knot, imagining a treasure map or perhaps a code to join a secret association.
As the knot comes undone, he gradually unfolds the pieces of paper, covered within a thin plastic sheet resembling lamination, but clearly not machine-made, as the plastic seems to have been sealed by some other method in the wilderness.
He glances at the paper, which looks like old letter paper, with ink so spread in places that it has become unreadable.
His hope crumbles, and his excited face washes away in the tiredness of the hike.
But he's not too disheartened, as his main motive is to hike this place. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath of the cozy breeze, and opens his eyes as he exhales his strain and scattered thoughts.
Without any questions, he walks on, taking out his hiking staff from the bag, unfolding it, and walking until dusk.
He's sure he'll soon travel near the Pass, but now he's nowhere near the river. He stands in a denser area, where wild fauna and an unfamiliar haziness with faint noises block his ears, as if he were in a high-altitude area. Without any questions, he looks at his compass, which points north, yet he finds himself surrounded by an exotic jungle.
He looks for an area to set up camp as the sun is about to meet the moon.
Luckily, he finds a barren patch with ashes, perhaps left by people who were here before?
He then assembles his tent, as seen in those cheap, old vintage videotapes.
The result was a structure that would make any modern artist proud but provided little in the way of shelter. "Gutsy would've dug a better shelter," he quipped, resigning himself to his sleeping bag.
He then looks at the sky; the sun is gone, leaving him alone, but the last minute redness provides a source of light. He surveys the area to ensure it's safe from any burrows.
He hasn't seen one yet and doesn't have time for another expedition.
So, he places his backpack on the ground and takes out certain objects, starting with a small handkerchief with a three-orb design arranged in a triangle formation.
Seeing it, it unusually reminds him of Gutsy, how when his ankle was sore, aching after his leg had been hit by a stubborn rock on the ground.
The dog shook his head, loosened the handkerchief around his neck, then put it in his mouth and gave it to him, for treating his pain, "...it didn't do much, but it made me feel better than nothing," he muttered as he then scrutinized the area for his night out.
He picked various items from his home earlier; now he takes them out, as he needs:
- A Black Torch x1
- Some Dry Leaves and Dry Twigs he picked up along the way near broken signboards.
- A Lighter (with a ceramic-ion battery) x1
- A Folded Digital Newspaper x1 with some Banned Plastic Sheets x3: One sheet contained his Smartphone x1, Digital Notebook x1, and Pen x1.
Lastly, he takes out his food supplies:
- Scrumptious Canned food x6 - "One can would be enough only for survival," he murmured, as he forgot to pack his favorite canned food.
- x4 Full One-liter Water Bottles, along with x5 Empty Bottles he drank during the hike.
There are more supplies reserved only for desperate times.
He combined dry leaves, twigs, and some branches nearby to form a fire encircled in stones, blocking the way for flames to create forest blackouts.
Opening his lighter, he tried to ignite it but was interrupted by the hoot of an owl, as if each time there was hooting, it extinguished the flames. "Weird...what's happening in this jungle?" He commented, wondering when he may reach the mountain.
Unperturbed, he pulled a red thread from an earlier handkerchief, which then began to inflate like a balloon, transforming into a large, rectangular-design sleeping bag, good for comfort and protection.
He didn't look surprised; such compaction technology was commonplace now, but he still wondered about the feel of traditional sleeping bags.
As the fire burned, he sat near it and unfolded the newspaper that appeared empty, its gray-white color reminiscent of old newspapers.
He perused a digital newspaper that automatically began to be scribed with ink-black painting, with colorful yet grim portraits of a fractured world.
At the same time, some white-green fireflies began to gather near the fire without his notice.
**[CRUMBLE NEWS:]**
**HEADLINES:**
"WW-IV Takes a Breather: World Leaders Call It 'Intermission' Before Act Two!"
"Earth's Latest Crack-Up: Continents Get 90% in Fracture Test!"
Bit by bit, current news materialized in a visual showing a live view of the current world, while on the side columns: Visual weathers, live footage of its destruction from various places, while the current temperature display read: 13�C, with a 30% Storm Warning Proximity, and Economic Recession causing the deathbed for celebrities to every sector's tycoons.
"Trigger-Happy Holidays: Global 'Black Sales' Event Turns Peace Talks into a Shooting Range!"
Between those headlines, digital ads still managed to hold their own box in one column: offering deals on armor, firearms, food supplies, first aid, "Everything Free! with 60,000 (legal issues) ? Currency to those who support their nation's troops by joining hands."
- "Apply it just one-click: What are you waiting for, CLICK IT!!"
The audio built-in comes from the digital newspaper: An intriguing article just updated now...
"DRONES MAY BE BRINGING HARM!!"
(Click to read more)
As he wondered if it was news on stopping the war or some new cure rather than implanted Brain-Chips.
(Article unfolds) As he read the significant lines, he wondered about those links but feared they only showed him more lethal news than glad tidings.
[Follow The Personal Guidelines: if possible, stay near home...]
[Follow the Locator, to get into nearby 'Net Houses'.]
[Be aware...in those 'Hazard Areas', everyone must keep wearing 'Protocol Suits', and take essential items, with 'Pain Relief', and 'Absence Pills', try to get into 'Net Houses' as soon as possible.]
[Incurable: have the freedom to leave by taking 'Absence Pills!] Hearing this line, his heart faints a bit, feeling the pain of those losing life.
An audio echo in the background of the digital newspaper, with tension visuals display: Ten Superpower-Nations that win seats in the "Union Region," world affairs: In this havoc, Union treaties have to wait until a Black Sunrise is seen again before the blooming lotus.
He folded the newspaper; with fading audio, and glitching video, some text last seen in the newspaper, "Hotel Echo Lima Papa Mike Echo" as R�ssler closed the newspaper, with a dejected feeling. Glancing at the sky, then back at his sleeping bag, he went to sleep, fatigued in both soul and body.
**June 04, 20XX. The Weather Is Silent as Hill.**
Before the sun's rays could reach him, he woke up at predawn.
He yawned, drank a bottle of water, and did his ten-minute warm-up. Despite the howling winds from the path he was following, he felt ready for the final leg of his hike. However, the heavy stomping noise he heard during his sleep puzzled him.
Taking out his hiking staff, he decided to move at a fast pace, but he had to be cautious about his ankle, which kept straining for unknown reasons.
Six minutes later, an unusual heat enveloped him. The area seemed heated, as if he were inside an oven, and he felt roasted like coffee beans. This warmth persisted even though the sun had not yet risen.
Perplexed yet determined, he continued his hike. As twilight gave way to the sun, rays pierced through the stormy clouds like laser beams, threatening to erase him. But the clouds protected him, allowing him to survive a little longer.
The atmosphere took on a dim hue, with shades of pink, red, orange, and black. The untamed storms swirled menacingly, crackling with energy.
Suddenly, a crimson flash blinded him. He instinctively covered his eyes and upper body with his hands. In that moment, he couldn't comprehend what was happening or what was about to happen?
The ground beneath his feet trembled, and he felt the land rupture. When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing in an unfamiliar location.
"WHAT - !!" The word caught in his throat. The virescent haze surrounded him, blinding his vision. He squinted to read the sign on the ground: "THE KHOLAT PEAK!!"
His body felt both heated and drenched in tiny water droplets. Thirst gnawed at him, and he drank from his ninth water bottle.
But something was wrong. "Weird," he muttered. "Where did the water go? I just drank one water bottle. Last night, there were three [full] water bottles, but now they're gone. How?"
Perplexity only deepened his situation. His thirst intensified, urging him to move forward.
Through the virescent haze, he stumbled onward, guided by an inexplicable force. His mind conjured blurry, glitchy visions from midnight - a faint voice, distant streetlights, and an elusive humming.
As the lights drew nearer, he sensed impending danger. A typhoon, the "Wij leefden Typhoon," threatened to suffocate him, draining his essence and will to survive.
On the verge of death, he crawled forward, the faint whispers of "Help...Help...Help!!!" echoing in his ears.
_To be Continued....._
