I woke to sunlight streaming through the window and the smell of pine.
For a moment, I didn't remember where I was. My body felt wrong—too light, too strong, like I was wearing someone else's skin. Then it all came rushing back. The lodge. APEX. Joel Miller. Nine months.
I sat up, running my hands through my hair. The bed was comfortable, more so than I'd expected, but I'd still slept in my clothes. Old habits from a life that no longer existed.
Good morning, Evan. APEX's text appeared in my vision, gentle and unobtrusive. How are you feeling?
"Like I died and woke up in a video game," I muttered, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.
Technically accurate. Your sleep cycle was normal—eight hours, REM patterns healthy. Your body has fully adjusted to the knowledge integration.
I stood and stretched, feeling muscles respond with an ease I hadn't experienced in years. My old body had been serviceable—decent shape for a thirty-two-year-old who sat at a desk most days. This one felt like a machine, ready and waiting for commands.
"What time is it?"
7:23 AM, May 15th, 2037. Sunrise was at 5:47. Temperature outside is 58 degrees Fahrenheit, clear skies, light wind from the northwest. Ideal conditions for weapons training.
I moved to the window and looked out at the forest. Morning light filtered through the trees, casting everything in shades of green and gold. It was beautiful. Peaceful. Easy to forget that out there, people were struggling to survive. That infected roamed in the shadows.
"Alright," I said. "Let's do this. What's first?"
Breakfast. You'll need energy. Then we'll set up a practice range outside—somewhere with good sightlines and natural sound dampening. I'll guide you through weapons familiarization, starting with the basics and building up to live fire practice.
That made sense. I headed downstairs to the kitchen, my footsteps echoing on the wooden floors. The lodge felt bigger in the morning light, more real somehow. I could see details I'd missed yesterday—the careful craftsmanship of the furniture, the way everything was positioned for both comfort and function.
In the kitchen, I found oatmeal in one of the storage containers, along with dried fruit and honey. Simple but nutritious. I cooked it on the gas stove, the familiar routine grounding me in this unfamiliar world.
As I ate, APEX displayed a schedule in my vision:
TODAY'S TRAINING SCHEDULE:
0800-1000: Weapons Familiarization & Safety
1000-1200: Live Fire Practice (Handgun)
1200-1300: Lunch & Rest
1300-1500: Perimeter Exploration
1500-1700: Bow Practice
1700-1800: Maintenance & Cleaning
"That's a full day," I said around a mouthful of oatmeal.
Building competence takes time and repetition. The knowledge integration gave you the foundation, but muscle memory needs reinforcement. By the end of today, you should feel comfortable with your weapons. By the end of the week, they'll feel like extensions of yourself.
I finished breakfast, cleaned up, and headed back upstairs to the armory. The door opened at my touch, and I gathered what I'd need: the Glock 19, two magazines, a box of 9mm ammunition, cleaning supplies, and eye and ear protection I found in a drawer.
Take the Ka-Bar as well, APEX suggested. Always have a backup weapon, and a knife is invaluable for more than just combat.
I clipped the combat knife to my belt, feeling its weight settle against my hip. The Glock went into a hip holster I found on one of the weapon racks. It felt strange—I'd never carried a gun before. Never needed to.
Now it might be the thing that kept me alive.
Outside, the morning air was crisp and clean. I took a deep breath, tasting pine and earth and something wild. No exhaust fumes. No city smells. Just nature, raw and untamed.
Follow the path behind the lodge, APEX directed, highlighting a trail in my vision. About 200 meters. There's a natural clearing with a hillside backstop—perfect for a shooting range.
I walked, taking in my surroundings. The forest was dense but not impassable. Game trails crisscrossed the area, and I could hear birds calling to each other in the canopy above. It felt alive in a way that cities never did.
The clearing was exactly as APEX described—maybe thirty meters across, with a steep hillside rising behind it. Trees formed natural walls on three sides, and the ground was relatively flat.
This will work, APEX confirmed. The hillside will stop any rounds, and the trees will muffle the sound. Not perfect, but adequate. Now, let's set up targets.
"Targets?" I looked around. "I don't have any."
Improvise. Find fallen logs or branches. Stack them at varying distances—5 meters, 10 meters, 15 meters. Mark them with something visible.
I spent the next twenty minutes gathering materials and setting up a makeshift range. Three log stacks at different distances, marked with strips of cloth I tore from an old shirt I'd found in the storage closet. It wasn't professional, but it would work.
Good. Now, before we fire a single round, we're going to review weapons safety. I know the knowledge integration included this, but I want to make sure it's reinforced.
For the next hour, APEX walked me through everything. How to properly grip the Glock. How to check if it was loaded. How to engage and disengage the safety. How to load and unload magazines. The four fundamental rules of gun safety, repeated until they were burned into my brain.
Treat every weapon as if it's loaded.Never point it at anything you don't intend to destroy.Keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to fire.Be aware of your target and what's beyond it.
"I know this," I said, but APEX was insistent.
Knowing and practicing are different. Muscle memory needs repetition. Again.
So I practiced. Drawing from the holster. Dry firing at the targets. Loading and unloading. Over and over until my hands moved without conscious thought.
Better, APEX said finally. Now, let's load live rounds. Start with five in the magazine.
My hands were steady as I loaded the bullets, their brass casings catching the morning light. I slid the magazine into the grip, heard it click home. Chambered a round. The slide made a satisfying cha-chunk as it locked into place.
The Glock suddenly felt heavier. More real.
Target at 5 meters, APEX instructed. Two-handed grip. Sight picture. Breathe. Squeeze, don't pull.
I raised the pistol, lining up the sights with the closest log. My heart was pounding, adrenaline making my hands want to shake. I forced myself to breathe slowly, evenly. In through my nose. Out through my mouth.
The knowledge integration told me what to do, but doing it was different. This wasn't theory. This was real.
I squeezed the trigger.
The gunshot cracked through the clearing, louder than I expected even with ear protection. The recoil pushed my hands up, and I saw bark explode from the log—high and to the right of where I'd aimed.
Not bad for your first shot, APEX said. But you anticipated the recoil. That's why you pulled high. Relax. Trust the weapon. Again.
I fired again. Closer this time. Then again. And again. The fifth shot hit dead center, and I felt a surge of satisfaction.
Excellent. Reload and continue. Focus on consistency.
For the next two hours, I fired round after round. APEX provided constant feedback—adjust your grip, control your breathing, don't jerk the trigger. Slowly, steadily, I improved. The shots grouped tighter. My hands grew more confident.
By the time APEX called for a break, I'd gone through fifty rounds, and my target logs looked like they'd been attacked by angry beavers.
You're progressing faster than expected, APEX noted. The knowledge integration is taking hold well. How do you feel?
"Tired," I admitted, setting the Glock down on a flat rock. "My hands are sore, my ears are ringing even with protection, and I smell like gunpowder."
All normal. Let's break for lunch, then we'll explore the perimeter. I want you familiar with the area around the lodge—escape routes, water sources, potential threats.
I gathered my gear and headed back to the lodge. My arms felt like jelly, and there was a dull ache in my shoulders from holding the shooting stance. But underneath the fatigue was something else—a sense of accomplishment. I'd done this. I'd actually done this.
After a quick lunch of canned soup and bread from the pantry, APEX guided me on a perimeter walk. We moved in a wide circle around the lodge, maybe half a kilometer out.
This is your immediate territory, APEX explained. You need to know every trail, every landmark, every place where threats could emerge or where you could take cover.
I paid attention, noting the creek that ran about 300 meters west of the lodge, the rocky outcropping to the north that would provide a good vantage point, the dense thicket to the east that looked impassable.
The dam is to the southeast, APEX reminded me, highlighting it on the map in my vision. We'll visit it tomorrow. For now, I want you to understand the forest itself.
As we walked, APEX taught me to read the environment. How to spot game trails. How to identify edible plants versus poisonous ones. How to move quietly through underbrush. The knowledge integration had given me the information, but experiencing it firsthand made it real.
We were about twenty minutes into the walk when APEX's text changed color—from its usual blue-white to a sharp yellow.
Stop. Movement ahead. 40 meters, eleven o'clock.
I froze, my hand instinctively moving to the Glock at my hip. My heart rate spiked.
"What is it?" I whispered.
Analyzing... Infected. Single target. Runner, based on movement pattern. It hasn't detected you yet.
My mouth went dry. This was it. My first real encounter with the infected.
You have options, APEX continued, text calm and steady. Evade—move quietly back the way we came. Engage—use your weapon. Observe—stay hidden and let it pass. Your choice.
I crouched low, peering through the trees. There—a figure moving between the trunks. Shambling, jerky movements. Even from this distance, I could see the fungal growth on its neck and face, grotesque and organic.
It had been a person once. Someone with a name, a life, people who cared about them.
Now it was a monster.
"Can I avoid it?" I asked quietly.
Probability of successful evasion: 78%. Wind is in your favor, and it's moving away from your position. If you move now, slowly and quietly, you should be able to retreat undetected.
That decided it. I wasn't ready for combat. Not yet. Not when I had a choice.
I backed away slowly, placing each foot carefully, watching the infected through the trees. It continued its aimless wandering, oblivious to my presence. After what felt like an eternity, I was far enough away to turn and walk normally.
My hands were shaking.
You made the right call, APEX said. Combat should always be a last resort. Survival isn't about being brave—it's about being smart.
"That was a person," I said, my voice tight.
Yes. And there are thousands more like it. The infection doesn't discriminate, Evan. It takes everyone—young, old, strong, weak. That's why we're training. So you can protect yourself without becoming one of them.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. We continued the perimeter walk, but I was more cautious now, more aware. The forest wasn't just beautiful—it was dangerous.
By late afternoon, we were back at the clearing for bow practice. The compound bow felt different from the pistol—more elegant, more precise. The draw weight was heavy, but my new body handled it easily.
Archery is about patience and control, APEX explained. Unlike firearms, you can't rely on rapid fire. Every shot must count.
I nocked an arrow, drew the string back to my anchor point, and aimed at the target log. The world narrowed to just me, the bow, and the target. I released.
The arrow flew true, sinking into the log with a satisfying thunk.
Excellent. Again.
I practiced until the sun started to dip toward the horizon, my quiver gradually emptying as arrows peppered the logs. It was meditative in a way shooting hadn't been—quieter, more focused.
You're a natural, APEX observed. Or the knowledge integration is working even better than expected.
"Maybe both," I said, retrieving my arrows. "This feels... right. More than the gun did."
Everyone has their preferred tools. The important thing is that you're competent with all of them.
Back at the lodge, I cleaned and maintained the weapons under APEX's guidance. The Glock was disassembled, cleaned, oiled, and reassembled. The bow was inspected for damage, the string waxed. The knife was sharpened on a whetstone I found in the workshop.
By the time I finished, it was dark outside, and I was exhausted.
You did well today, APEX said as I collapsed into one of the chairs by the fireplace. Tomorrow, we'll visit the dam, practice rifle shooting, and work on hand-to-hand combat basics. But for now, rest. You've earned it.
I stared at the ceiling, my body aching in ways I hadn't felt in years. But underneath the fatigue was something else—confidence. I'd fired a gun. I'd seen an infected and lived. I'd taken the first real steps toward becoming someone who could survive in this world.
Somewhere out there, Joel Miller was going about his life, unaware of what was coming.
But I was getting ready.
One day at a time.