Gone World: Dead Protocol

CHAPTER 1 — To the End

Rhicca Halden woke before dawn, long before the sun even considered rising. The house around her was silent, the kind of silence that felt like a held breath. She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, letting the familiar numbness settle over her like frost.

She didn’t need her alarm. She hadn’t needed it for months.

Sleep came in fragments now—thin, brittle pieces that never stayed long enough to matter.

She rolled out of bed, landing lightly on her feet. The carpet was soft, warm from the night’s trapped heat, but she barely felt it. She moved through her room with practiced efficiency, pulling on clothes, tying her hair back, brushing her teeth

Her reflection in the mirror looked like a ghost wearing her skin.

She didn’t linger on it.

The house was too big for one person, but she’d never bothered to change that. She liked the emptiness. It didn’t ask anything of her. It didn’t expect her to smile or pretend. It simply existed, and she existed inside it.

She walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge, stared at the food inside, then closed it again. Eating felt pointless. She wasn’t planning to be alive long enough for hunger to matter.

Instead, she pressed a button on her stereo system. There was a soft hum with a light jingle as the machine booted up.

Then the music began.

Not jazz. Not anything warm.

Just a quiet, looping broadcast—one of the last emergency transmissions from the early days of the Collapse. A woman’s voice, calm and steady, reading off infection statistics and evacuation orders that were years too late to matter.

Rhicca listened anyway.

She liked the voice. She liked the message. It was a bit amusing in a way as it was coupled with a cheery rendition of the countries anthem.

It reminded her of a world that had already died. It reminded her of the reasons the world was so quick to die.

She packed her rucksack first—knife, rope, first aid kit, water. Then she dragged the heavy suitcase from the closet. It thumped against the floor, rattling faintly. Something inside shifted and let out a muffled sound.

She ignored it.

Outside, the sky was still black. Her sedan sat in the driveway, plain and forgettable. She loaded the suitcase into the trunk, then the rucksack. The air smelled like damp earth and distant smoke. The world had been burning for weeks now.

At first there was triumphs. Cities had begun to rebuild their infrastructure but then another wave of misfortune would strike as if the world itself was trying to rid itself of humanity by any means necessary.

She got in her car and departed her means of safety.

The city lights faded behind her as she took the back roads toward the forest. Surprisingly, there were less cars parked along the shoulder on this route.

The wind rushed against the car, whispering through the cracks in the windows. Sometimes she thought she heard voices in it—soft, indistinct murmurs that tugged at her attention.

She ignored those too.

The road worsened as she approached the trailhead. Her car rattled violently over potholes and broken asphalt. She turned on the radio, switching to a heavy metal station.

The guitar riffs drowned out the thumping of the suspension. The longevity of satellite radio saving her from the quiet of the ride. Keeping her thoughts from rattling.

She glanced into the rearview mirror.

The city was gone now.

Only darkness and trees remained.

By the time she reached the parking area, the sky had begun to lighten. Pale gold filtered through the treetops. She parked, stepped out, and breathed in the cold morning air.

A whisper brushed her ear.

She stiffened.

Her hair lifted slightly, though there was no wind.

She exhaled slowly.

Not real.

Just her mind playing tricks again.

She opened the trunk and pulled out the suitcase. It thudded onto the gravel. Another muffled sound came from inside—this time a soft, panicked squeak.

She didn’t react.

Other cars arrived behind her. A group of hikers stepped out, laughing loudly. One of them spotted her and froze, eyes widening at the sight of her suitcase. He looked like he wanted to say something.

Rhicca hoped he didn’t. She did not want him to approach her especially seeing as she was outnumbered. Humans in the final days had reverted back to base desires.

More cars pulled in, blocking his view.

Rhicca used the distraction to slip into the forest.

The trail was rough, but she didn’t care. She dragged the suitcase behind her, letting it bounce over roots and rocks. The wind picked up, cold and sharp, drying her skin. The forest groaned and whispered around her—branches creaking, leaves rustling, distant animal cries echoing through the trees.

She veered off the trail when she heard the first unnatural screech.

The infected wolves were close.

She walked deeper into the forest, ignoring the burning in her legs. Eventually she reached a fallen tree and sat on it, letting the suitcase rest beside her. It tipped over and rattled violently.

She didn’t look at it.

After a few minutes, she stood again and continued upward. The sun rose higher, warming her slightly. She kept walking until she was far from any trail, surrounded by dense undergrowth and towering pines.

Then she stopped.

She set the suitcase down.

She listened.

The forest listened back.

A whisper brushed her cheek.

A glint of golden fur flickered in the bushes.

Rhicca smiled faintly.

Finally.

She knelt beside the suitcase and opened it.

A hogtied man fell out, hitting the ground hard. His eyes were wide, terrified. The gag muffled his screams. He writhed, trying to crawl away, but the ropes held him tight.

Rhicca stepped back, climbed a nearby tree, and settled onto a sturdy branch. She wasn’t as agile as she used to be, but she managed.

She watched.

The wolves emerged moments later—three of them, gaunt and starving, their fur patchy and their eyes glowing faintly with infection. They snarled, circling the man.

He screamed.

They lunged.

Rhicca watched the chaos unfold.

She felt nothing.

When one wolf tore out his jugular, she sighed softly.

The wind tousled her hair.

“Did you enjoy it?” she murmured to the forest.

No answer came. She didn’t expect one to.

She sat there for a while enjoying the sun. The wind starts to whip around her, gaining strength with each second, as if urging her to fall. She wondered what it would feel like falling from this height.

The rush of air.

The impact.

The silence afterward.

If she survived the fall, the following carnage would come

“It’ll feel horrible, won’t it,” she whispered, smiling faintly. She would be free food for the infected beasts that scour the forest.

A hum sounds near her. As if the forest itself was agreeing with pleasure. There was an urge one she was willing to follow. It is part of the reason that she is here after all.

She removed her rucksack, opened it. Inside were a few things, a cheap first aid kit and a nice long hemp rope. The rope was the target of her desire. She takes it out. Rhicca began to tie it to the branch with careful knots. Then she fashioned the noose.

She felt no fear.

Only relief.

She slipped the noose around her neck.

A voice shouted from below.

“Holy shit!”

A male’s voice exclaimed just as he decided to plummet to the ground.

She stepped off the branch.

In her decent, the rope did not even get the chance to become taught when she is swallowed by light.

She landed on a smooth, white floor. The air was warm, almost comforting. A soft yellow glow filled the room. She blinked, disoriented.

She wasn’t dead. A wave of irritation rose within her.