A manmade structure could be seen peeking from the side of a mountain range to the right. Jutting out of the black rock was a semicircular white section high over the edge of the field, five-hundred feet above the fluffy grass. The jungle continued underneath the structure, so it was unclear whether more was hidden or if there was some type of lift to access the overlook.
Dark oval windows that spanned from top to bottom of the hockey-puck shaped building were lined up side by side along the entire circumference. Gus hesitated at the forest’s edge and wondered if there was someone looking back behind the comfort of the tinted glass. He got goosebumps despite the heat, imagining the building full of zombies just waiting to get out.
“We should investigate to ascertain if this is related to the source of the bio-stasis field,” Nick suggested.
“At the very least, it will beat sleeping out in the elements. But what if it’s full of zombies? Or if whoever is there has weaponized zombie sentries?” Gus added.
“True, perhaps caution should be the watchword of the day until we know more,” Nick conceded.
Keeping within the tree line, he skirted around until he came to the area below the overlook. The steep rock was impassable and offered no easy access to the structure above. Gus did not trust himself in trying to climb either the rocky cliff or the foliage to attempt to enter from the outside. He wasn’t afraid of heights, but he had a healthy dose of realism when it came to evaluating his skills in the climbing department.
Following the cliff wall, he circled to the other side of the clearing. From here a cultivated path could be seen. Strange knobby plants formed a ground cover along a yard-wide path from the field up toward the structure. The soft springiness of the plants was a welcome relief to the uneven and rocky terrain Gus had covered so far. He stayed among the bushes and saw carefully-maintained grounds. The sight confirmed to him that he was not alone.
Chapter Twelve
Some Guys Have All the Luck
Day 3 1:55 PM
11:23:41 remaining
Gus watched the area for about an hour. The time felt much longer, however, as he fidgeted and tried to find a comfortable position to hide in the bushes. No one entered or left the manor.
Ok, I don’t have time to sit here waiting, he thought as he checked his watch for the hundredth time. Gus glanced up at the countdown on his display, and he could almost hear the seconds ticking away like the Tell-Tale Heart. I have to do something productive. I’m not built for stakeouts. How do people manage that?
He walked a bit back into the trees and noticed a large rocky wall under part of the building above. Who knew how many entrances there were to this place, and it’d be stupid to get attacked from behind from someone coming out the back door. Gus walked along the steep rock, and was able to notice mostly basalt, with some scoria and something called gabbro using his Wreck-ognize as he trailed along the wall. He kept following the rocky wall, using the Wreck-ognize ability on any plant, tree or bug as he went, hiking for a couple hours.
The trees began to thin and Gus heard the sound of crashing waves in the distance, which hinted that he was getting closer to the ocean. As he finally broke out of the trees, he saw dark clouds on the horizon, heading straight for the island.
Crap.
He sped up his pace and started jogging along the cliff, trying not to splash water out of his crab pot, hoping to find a cave of some sort. The wind began to pick up as the sky darkened. Still the rock wall was solid, offering no form of shelter.
With the storm quickly approaching, Gus doubted he could make anything significant with palm fronds. There were far fewer on this rockier part of the island, so he wouldn’t have any materials even if he wanted. The wind beat more strongly on this side of the island as well, and Gus had to squint to keep sand out of his eyes.
As he turned around another curve, Gus saw something promising. Basalt columns framed a passageway into the cliff face; the bottom was filled with seawater, connected by a small inlet, but there were sufficient areas on the sides that Gus should be sheltered from most of the storm. The wind had increased to the point that Gus began to get a slight chill through his well-ventilated clothes.
The depths of the cave were enshrouded in darkness, made worse by the gloom of the storm. Gus made his way across the uneven basalt floor, the columns all at different levels. The width of the columns shrunk as he delved farther in, and the air became dank and chill. The cave made a dogleg to the left and got significantly darker. Gus changed his display and saw the area level out. Some debris littered the cave floor, from when water levels must have been higher.
Gus worried about what he would do if it was low tide and his little area was going to be flooded. His back ached from carrying the pack, so he slid it to the ground and shivered as the swirling, cold air hit his exposed, sweaty back. The wind was whipping more intensely now, occasionally making a resonance as it blew across the cave opening. It was an ominous sound, like the death wails of a large animal.
Pulling some of the wood and dried vines that had accumulated at the water’s edge, Gus pulled the drier bits into a pile and lit
