Twenty Fifth Corpse: The Worrisome Aftermath

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❝I don't believe in things like faith.❞

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Twenty Fifth Corpse | The Worrisome Aftermath

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[Z-day +6 | Apr. 20 | 17:17hrs]

Once the first vestiges of wakefulness started to creep up on me, I became aware of several things.

The first of which was that I was floating.

That was all it took for my eyes to snap open. As soon as I tried to sit up, I found myself partially submerged under freezing water.

I gasped in surprise, inhaling water. It took some flailing and clawing but I eventually realized that I was only a few feet away from shore, and it didn't take me long to realize that I could also simply stand and be out of the water.

I let myself drop onto the sand, several feet away from the ocean, laying on my back and squinting up at the sky. The sky was a mixture of orange and blue above me and I realized that it was afternoon, and even though the light from the sun wasn't as blinding as it would be in the morning, it still hurt to look at. My eyes felt like I'd buried them in sand and my mouth and throat didn't feel much better. Heck, it even hurt to swallow.

As much as waking up while drifting off into the ocean had alarmed me, I had to admit that I appreciated the cool water still trapped in the folds of my clothes--it made my body's obvious lack of hydration way more bearable. I was almost tempted to gulp down some of the water but I realized how disgusting that actually was before temptation could sway me too much.

But damn, I was beyond parched. And I must have still been out of it because the usual reaction to being submerged hadn't hit me. Matter of fact, all I could think about was water. There was no panic and fear beyond the standard desperation to get out of the water so I could breathe--a perfectly natural reaction without any of my usual terror.

It was strange.

What I noticed next was the way my body ached. It wasn't just one place either. It felt like I'd been in a fist fight with a truck and then run over with a steamroller. Nowhere hurt more than my head so I guess the truck punched me in the head the most.

I groaned and sat up, looking around me to see if I could find anybody else. Last thing I remembered was talking to...Marina? What? There was no way that had been real. Right...?

I was as disoriented as they came. I couldn't fathom why anybody would want to willingly subject themselves to this kind of mental, emotional and physical torture. It was insane.

I lied on the sand for a while longer before deciding I should try and find the others. Hopefully, they were in better shape than me. God forbid all of us be like this at the same time.

Pushing myself to my feet, I couldn't help but notice that my limbs still felt like the distant cousin of jello.

I stumbled toward the cabin as best as I could, falling a few times but pushing on agonizingly slow. On my way there, I absentmindedly cast a glance toward the dock, only to do a double take when I noticed our boat was missing.

You have got to be kidding me...

When I finally reached the cabins, horror is what I felt. Six of the ten rooms we'd locked ourselves in were left with doors wide open, and I was almost sure that if I looked inside, there'd be no one there.

"No..." I groaned, resisting the urge to throw myself onto the ground and throw a mini tantrum. For one, I didn't have the energy for it, and it wouldn't solve anything anyway.

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