Agony.
That was the first sensation that clawed its way through the suffocating darkness enveloping Ethan. A searing, all-consuming pain that seemed to rip through every fiber of his being. He gasped, a ragged, choked sound, his eyes flying open to a blurry, spinning canopy of unfamiliar trees. The coppery scent of blood, his own, was thick in his nostrils.
He tried to move, but a fresh wave of agony shot through his chest and side, forcing a cry from his lips. His memory was a chaotic jumble: the desperate diversion at the water tower, the terrifying speed and ferocity of the mutated beast – the UBE – Glenn's scream…
Glenn!
With a monumental effort, Ethan pushed himself up onto an elbow, his vision slowly clearing. The System interface, his constant companion, flickered erratically before his eyes, then solidified into something horrifyingly… empty. Gone were the mission logs, the detailed environmental scans, the ever-present Survivor's Exchange, the comforting weight of his sub-dimensional inventory. All that remained was a stark, brutally simple text display.
[HOST STATUS: ETHAN MILLER]
[HEALTH: 2/10 (CRITICAL – SEVERE LACERATIONS, BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA, SIGNIFICANT BLOOD LOSS)]
[STAMINA: 1/10 (CRITICAL – EXTREME EXERTION, SHOCK)]
[STRENGTH: 3 (TEMPORARILY WEAKENED – INJURY)]
[AGILITY: 2 (TEMPORARILY IMPAIRED – INJURY)]
[PERCEPTION: 4 (DIMINISHED – PAIN, TRAUMA)]
[SYSTEM CORE: DAMAGED. ADVANCED FUNCTIONS: OFFLINE (PERMANENT). CURRENT MODE: SAFE – BIOMETRIC MONITORING ONLY.]
Offline. Permanently. The words hit him with the force of a physical blow, a despair so profound it momentarily eclipsed even his physical pain. His System, his edge, his secret weapon, had sacrificed itself. That last, desperate surge of power, the blinding flash that had driven the UBE away… it had cost him everything.
Then he saw Glenn.
His friend, his scouting partner, lay a few feet away, tangled at the base of a large, blood-splattered oak. His eyes were open, staring sightlessly at the indifferent sky. The UBE had savaged his leg, and his chest… there was too much blood. A stillness about him spoke of a final, irrevocable peace.
"No…" Ethan choked out, dragging his battered body towards Glenn, ignoring the fresh waves of agony. "No, Glenn, come on, man…"
But he knew. He knew with a certainty that chilled him to the bone. Glenn Rhee, brave, resourceful Glenn, was dead. The vibrant spark that had been his friend was extinguished, another casualty of this brutal, unforgiving world.
A raw, guttural sob tore from Ethan's throat. Guilt, heavy and suffocating, crashed down on him. He should have been faster, stronger. The System, even in its final act, hadn't been enough to save them both unscathed. Now, it was gone, and so was Glenn.
The forest around him seemed to press in, filled with unseen horrors. The UBE, had it truly been killed by the System's last discharge, or had it merely been driven off, wounded and enraged? Were more of them out there? And the Runners, were they still a threat in this region? Without his advanced scanner, he was deaf and blind to the true dangers.
His own stats were a terrifying testament to his condition. Health: 2/10. He was bleeding out, dying. Lily. The thought of her, safe with Rick's group, he hoped, was the only thing that pierced through his despair. He had to survive. For her.
With a surge of desperate adrenaline that his System registered as a slight, temporary uptick in his 'Strength' before it dipped again, Ethan fumbled in his pockets. The small, life-saving smoke grenade he'd purchased was gone, likely lost in the fight or used by the System itself during that final energy discharge. His knife was still at his belt, his baseball bat lay a few feet away, splattered with gore.
He crawled to Glenn, his vision swimming. He had to do something, anything. He closed Glenn's eyes, a gesture of respect, of grief. Then, he focused on himself. He tore strips from his already ragged shirt, crudely binding the deep gashes on his arm and side, the System merely displaying [BLOOD LOSS: SLIGHTLY REDUCED] with cold indifference.
He knew he couldn't stay here. The smell of blood would draw walkers, if not worse. Rick's group… they wouldn't know where to find him. They were probably miles away by now, forced to move on, assuming both he and Glenn were dead. He was alone. Truly alone, for the first time since this nightmare began, without the comforting, guiding presence of his advanced System.
A new kind of horror, the horror of utter vulnerability, settled upon him.
Painfully, agonizingly, Ethan began to drag himself away from Glenn's body, away from the site of their desperate, failed stand. Each movement was torture. He crawled, pushed, his remaining strength failing, his vision blurring in and out. He had to find cover, any cover, before he bled out or something found him.
He didn't know how long he crawled, only that the forest floor was a blur of pain and despair. Finally, as darkness truly began to claim his senses, he tumbled into a shallow, leaf-filled depression at the base of a cluster of ancient, moss-covered rocks, the overhang providing minimal concealment.
His last conscious thought before unconsciousness took him was of Lily's face, her wide, trusting eyes. Then, his rudimentary System display flickered one last time before his vision went black:
[HEALTH: 1/10 (CRITICAL – IMMINENT SYSTEM FAILURE DUE TO HOST BIOLOGICAL COLLAPSE)]
[STAMINA: 0/10 (EXHAUSTED)]
The forest was silent, save for the rustling of leaves in the uncaring wind.