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Andy's Brave New World: Part 1
Tuesday, 25 November, 2025
Andy’s Brave New World: Part 1 Ranger Andy survives, the apocalypse in Yosemite. Based on a post by the hospital. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Day 1, Yosemite National Park The park was busy with spring visitors when the first reports came in. Tourists coughing in the visitor center, a family requesting medical assistance at Upper Pines campground. Andy helped coordinate with the park's small medical team, radioing updates to other rangers. Standard protocol for illness in the park, nothing too concerning yet. That evening, things took a turn, with the news reporting an alarming spread of similar outbreaks across California, and the world. Possibly a new avian flu, they said. Day 2 Everything accelerated. Half the ranger staff called in sick. The small park clinic was overwhelmed. Andy helped organize an evacuation point at the visitor center, trying to get sick tourists to hospitals in Fresno or Modesto. His training kicked in, calm, professional, reassuring visitors even as his colleague Declan started coughing blood next to him. The ill began dying in droves. The park superintendent ordered all non-essential personnel to evacuate. Andy stayed, helping the remaining medical staff set up an impromptu care center in the lodge. By the evening, Andy felt a fever rise and was soon sweating through his clothes and coughing up a lung. He weakly barricaded himself in his cabin and prepared to die like the others. Day 3 The next morning, Andy woke to fine himself still alive, surprised to feel slightly better than the night before. He pulled himself out of his cabin and began his duties. The radio channels went quiet one by one. No response from Fresno hospitals. The lodge had become a morgue. He spent the morning doing rounds, checking campsites, finding mostly bodies or critically ill visitors who died within hours. By evening, he was the only ranger still moving around. He did his best to care for the sick and dying. Andy wasn't entirely sure if this was all just an awful dream. Day 4, Morning The cough remained in his chest that morning, but Andy forced himself to continue his rounds. The ranger truck's tires crunched over broken glass in the parking lot as he checked North Pines Campground. Most sites were abandoned, their occupants having fled days ago. Others contained what he couldn't let himself think about yet. His fevered brain kept switching between ranger protocol and survival instinct. Check each site. Document. Radio in-- no, the radio was silent now. Just static and occasional distant screams that were becoming less frequent. That's when he saw it, an expensive ultralight tent in millennial pink and gray, surrounded by matching gear that looked straight out of an R E I catalog. Too pristine, barely used. A small solar charger lay futilely pointed at the clouded sky. "Hello?" His voice was rough from coughing. "Ranger service. Anyone alive in there?" "Define 'alive,'" came a strained but steady voice, followed by a cough. Andy approached cautiously, unsnapping his holster out of habit though he knew he wouldn't need it. Inside, a young woman sat cross-legged in the tent entrance, her expensive Lululemon sports bra and high-waisted hiking shorts soaked through with fever sweat. Despite everything, the death, the horror, his own fever, Andy couldn't help noticing how the wet fabric clung to her curves. Her figure was exactly the type that dominated outdoor Instagram, slim waist, toned stomach, curved hips, the sports bra struggling to contain what was clearly meant to be shown off just enough to stay within platform guidelines. He tried to push the thoughts away and focus, but his eyes kept betraying him. She looked up at him with clear eyes, fever-bright but alert. Mixed Asian-white features that hit that perfect social media sweet spot, even through the fever, high cheekbones, full lips, almond-shaped hazel eyes. Her carefully highlighted hair was plastered to her neck, mascara smudged but intact, like she'd been maintaining her appearance out of sheer habit until the fever hit. A few light freckles stood out against her flushed skin. "I'm guessing the 'shelter in place' order isn't working out great for everyone else either?" "I'm Ranger Rhee. Andy," he said, noting how her hands trembled slightly as she reached for her water bottle. "You're sick, but; not like the others." "Sarah Chen-Mitchell," she managed between sips. "And yeah, I noticed. Been listening to people cough and die all night while I just sat here with what feels like a really bad flu. Not exactly the wilderness experience I was going for." Her attempt at humor was undercut by the raw edge in her voice. Andy saw her Instagram-ready camp setup, the coordinated cookware still in its packaging, the expensive camera carefully wrapped in a rain cover, the rose gold water bottle. "We need to get you somewhere safer. Can you walk?" "Yeah, just;" She stood unsteadily, unconsciously adjusting her sports bra, a reflexive gesture that seemed absurd given the circumstances. "My car's blocked in. I tried to leave but;" She gestured at the chaos of abandoned vehicles hemming in her pristine Subaru, many with now-deceased occupants. "Look, I've got medicine and supplies back at my ranger unit," Andy said. "Pack whatever clothes and valuables you need. Leave the camping gear, we can always come back for it if;" he trailed off, not sure how to end that sentence. "Right," Sarah said, still shivering slightly in her wet athletic wear. "I should probably change too." "Do you need help?" Andy asked, then immediately regretted how that might sound. "I mean, with packing. You seem pretty weak." "No, I've got it," Sarah said quickly, pulling herself more upright. "Just; give me a few minutes?" Despite everything, there was still a hint of self-consciousness in her voice. Andy nodded and stepped away from the tent. "Take your time. We're not exactly on a schedule anymore." He heard the tent zip closed, followed by the sounds of her moving around inside. The rustle of fabric as she changed. Multiple bags being opened and closed, more than strictly necessary for just grabbing essentials, he thought. A few quiet muttered comments to herself about what to take. The distinct sound of what had to be a hairbrush being used. Even now, even here, some habits die hard. Or maybe it was just her way of holding onto normalcy for a few more minutes. Andy stood guard, trying not to listen too closely to her movements, scanning the eerily quiet campground. A crow called somewhere nearby. The mountain air was cool and clean, carrying no hint of the devastation it had helped deliver. "Ready," Sarah called softly. The tent zipper opened and she emerged with a large designer backpack, now dressed in a black Alo Yoga tube top that showcased her toned shoulders and pushed up her cleavage, paired with high-waisted leggings that clung to every curve. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, but her dark hair was neatly brushed, falling in waves around her shoulders. The fever flush in her cheeks only enhanced her natural beauty, that calculated mix of exotic and approachable that had probably earned her thousands of followers. She caught Andy's gaze traveling over her body and gave a small, knowing shrug, arching her back slightly. "I know, I know. Not exactly survival wear. But it's what I brought for my Instagram hiking content, so;" She did a little pose, definitely more displaying than mocking now, the movement emphasizing her curves. Andy found himself watching much longer than he should, and her slight smile suggested that was exactly the response she'd wanted. "We can probably find you something more practical at the gear store," he managed, forcing his eyes back to her face. "Heavy duty pants, boots, proper rain gear." "Perfect," she smiled, her voice dropping slightly despite her obvious exhaustion. "Though I did bring some actually useful stuff." She knelt by her bag, the movement making Andy struggle to keep his eyes up. "Latest gen military water filter, my dad's company makes them for the marines. Handles way more volume than those little Life Straws. Satellite uplink that'll work even if the normal networks are down. And this;" She pulled out a sleek black device. "GoPro 12 with infrared. Not even on the market yet, I was supposed to demo it next month." Clean water for a larger group. Communications. Night operations. He tried not to sound too eager. "That; could all come in really handy." As they walked to his truck, both carefully kept their eyes forward, ignoring the abandoned cars and what lay inside them. Andy carried her bag despite her token protest, noticing how she stayed close to his side. "So," Sarah said once they were in the truck, adjusting the AC vent toward her flushed face. "How long have you been a ranger here?" The question seemed deliberately normal, almost absurdly so given the circumstances. "Three years here. Before that, two years at Joshua Tree." "Oh, I was just at Joshua Tree! That Hidden Valley trail at sunset, it was so beautiful." She spoke wistfully, her enthusiasm fading as the weight of everything they had experienced in the past three days settled back. Andy gestured at her bag. "Tell me about that gear, you said there was a satellite uplink?" "Right." Sarah dug through her bag, pulling out sleek boxes with military-style lettering. She started reading, her voice growing more confident as she went. "Okay, so this is a 'Starlink Tactical Ground Array', it's got four encrypted receiver units that can talk to each other from anywhere on Earth. Says here it can maintain 4G speeds even without ground infrastructure." She looked up. "Guess Dad's company wasn't just being paranoid with all this survivalist tech." "Wait, you mean that little thing has internet access? I don't see a satellite dish anywhere." "Yeah I think so. I think the array can mimic the behavior of a dish without actually needing one." "That's huge. We really need more information about what's going on." Andy said, feeling hopeful about something for the first time in days. She nodded and moved on to the water system. "This one's cool, processes up to 25 gallons per hour, removes everything down to 0.0001 microns. Works on chemical and biological agents too. If we can get some acid and lye we can keep reusing it forever." "And the camera?" Andy asked. "Let's see; Military-grade infrared imaging, 4K resolution in complete darkness, range up to;" she squinted at the manual. "Thermal detection at 200 meters." "Could probably rig that into a decent night sight," Andy mused, then caught himself. Sarah glanced at his holstered pistol, then out at the empty park road. After a long pause, she cleared her throat and went back to the manual, her voice quieter. "It's got some kind of A I field-of-view system too;" Day 4, Evening After getting Sarah settled at his unit, Andy continued searching for survivors and checking on the dying. Near the clinic, he found Miguel Martinez slumped against a supply cabinet, still in his blood-stained uniform but maintaining his ramrod-straight Marine posture even now. The room around him showed signs of his final efforts, organized medical supplies, careful notes on symptoms, a log of those he'd tried to help. He looked up weakly from his notebook when Andy arrived. "Rhee." Miguel's voice was barely a whisper. "You made it. Figured you might. Always had the look." "Miguel," Andy started, but the older ranger cut him off with a weak wave. "Save it. Listen. Daniela's following protocol at home. She got sick two days ago. But she's stronger. Already sounding better on the radio this morning. She must be immune, like you, alaba al Señor". Immune. Were they immune? The idea hit Andy like a truck. Andy knew Daniela, had helped train her on basic ranger procedures, watched her grow up these past three years. Though only fourteen, her prepper father had subject her to a rigorous marine-style training regimen that made her an extremely competent survivalist. She'd always seemed almost comically over-prepared, showing up to basic first aid training with a full combat medical kit. If there was anyone left to laugh, they wouldn't be now. "Her isolation ends tomorrow morning," Miguel continued. "She knows what to do, but;" Another coughing fit wracked him, blood spattering his arm. "She'll need;" He grabbed Andy's wrist with surprising strength. "You take care of her. After. Promise me." "If it comes to that. I swear." Andy attempted a smile. "Although, she might be the one taking care of me in the end." Miguel chuckled softly. Andy tried to help Miguel up, but the older ranger shook his head. "Too late for me. Already tried everything here. Nothing helps. Just;" He pulled himself straighter. "Just let me finish my notes. Document everything. Might help someone." Andy nodded, throat tight. He gripped Miguel's hand one more time, and they looked each other in the eyes. He gave Miguel a solemn nod, and headed to the Martinez cabin. Through a small clear section in the sealed window, he could see Daniela's silhouette moving around inside, her survival supplies arranged with precision. Just like her father had taught her. "Daniela?" he called softly. She approached the window, and even through the plastic he could see the fever flush in her cheeks. But her voice was strong, clear. "Ranger Rhee. Status report: began showing symptoms approximately 36 hours ago. Fever peaked at 101.2 last night. Currently maintaining isolation." A pause. "Dad mentioned you were coming." "Seems you're also OK, like me. I found another survivor too." Daniela nodded, processing. "Isolation ends at 0600 tomorrow. That's when Dad's supposed to come get me, " Her voice caught. "Is; is dad;? I haven't asked, but; he sounds really weak right now." "We'll see. He's not looking great to be honest, Daniela. I'm sorry." The poor girl tried to maintain composure but Andy could see her eyes well up. She turned away briefly, then turned back. When she spoke again, her voice was wavered slightly. "I'll maintain quarantine until morning." "Are you sure you don't want to go see him? You seem OK, I don't think it would hurt." She shook her head "No. I'll talk to him on the radio. Protocol is protocol." "OK. I'll come get you at six." Andy headed back to his cabin, to Sarah, the weight of Miguel's last watch at the clinic and his daughter's words falling on his shoulders. Tomorrow morning would come too soon, and not soon enough. Day 4, Late Night The commissary had been eerily quiet, its automatic doors frozen half-open. Andy had gathered what he could, protein bars, dried fruit, bottles of water. The walk back to his cabin felt longer than usual, each shadow holding the potential for another body, another victim. He saw the Starlink array before he reached his door, a sleek black apparatus that looked more like a piece of modern art than military hardware. Sarah had positioned the nodes in a complex nested arrangement. Andy was mildly impressed, it looked precisely done. The cabin door creaked slightly as he pushed it open. "Sarah, I got some-" He stopped short. She was curled up in his bed, wrapped in her sleeping bag despite the warmth of the evening. Her face was peaceful in sleep, the fever flush finally fading from her cheeks. Her dark hair spilled across his pillow, and he noticed she'd changed into a pale pink Alo Yoga tank top that looked brand-new. The transformation from her carefully curated daytime appearance was striking. She looked younger, more vulnerable. Andy set the supplies down as quietly as he could and backed out of the cabin. She needed the rest more than she needed food right now. Outside, his phone buzzed, the first notification he'd received in days. The Starlink array hummed softly, its status light steady green. He pulled out his phone with slightly trembling hands and watched as notifications began flooding in. Email. Twitter. News alerts. The world outside the park still existed apparently, somehow. He sat heavily in one of the wooden chairs on his small porch, opened his laptop, and began downloading the prepper manuals Miguel had mentioned so many times, "Emergency Protocols for Systemic Collapse", "Catastrophic Event Recovery, Reference Encyclopedia" and "Technology Bootstrapping, How to Restart Industrial Society". The download started immediately, the normalcy of a digital download almost shocking after days of internet silence. Then he opened Twitter, and his breath caught in his throat. The feed was sparse but active. Scattered voices calling out from around the world, trying to find others. A woman in Seattle reporting that her entire family had survived. A doctor in Mumbai documenting recovery rates. A thread from the CDC, last updated two days ago, describing it as an avian flu with aerosol human-human and human-bird transmission, confirming what Miguel had alluded to, some people got deathly ill, a tiny fraction just got sick and recovered, and there seemed to be no pattern to it. Someone, a software engineer in Morocco, according to the about page, had anticipated the grid's imminent collapse and created a simplified Twitter clone called Beacon. It apparently ran on a solar-powered home server farm with redundant battery backups, designed specifically to operate via Starlink. The site was bare-bones but functional: just a global chronological feed, basic search, hashtags, geotags, and posts limited to 280 characters. One tweet from a virologist caught his eye: "Preliminary data suggests roughly a point 8% survival rate globally. Fascinating gender disparity, female survivors outnumbering male 7 to 1. Genetic factor? Hormonal? Need more data." Andy scrolled through location tags, trying to piece together the scale of it. The posts from major cities painted a chaotic picture, hundreds of survivors in New York, Los Angeles, Shanghai, but all isolated, scattered across vast urban landscapes. No real organization yet, just desperate attempts to connect. "Anyone alive near Brooklyn Heights?" "S O S from Miracle Mile L A, have supplies, need medical." "Twenty survivors at Pudong Hospital Shanghai, seeking others." The shock was still fresh, the posts raw with grief and disbelief. Nobody was talking about rebuilding yet. They were still counting their losses. The manuals finished downloading, and Andy forced himself to close Twitter. He needed to focus on what he could control, keeping Sarah and Daniela alive, gathering supplies, and getting out of Yosemite to a more major population center. The wider world would still be there tomorrow, whatever was left of it. He looked up at Half Dome, now silvered by moonlight. The ancient granite face was unchanged, indifferent to the apocalypse that had just played out beneath it. Somewhere in the darkness, coyotes began to howl, a sound that had always made the park feel wild and untamed. Now it felt like a reminder: nature was already moving on, reclaiming what had briefly been borrowed. Andy opened the survival manual's PDF, finding the section on "Social Collapse and Communication Strategies." The manual laid out different strategies based on mortality rates, 30%, 50%, 70%, 90%, 99%. With a grimace, he scrolled to the 99% section. "In the immediate aftermath of a >99% mortality event, social structures will be broadly erased and surviving population density will be too low for the immediate formation of antagonistic groups. Unlike smaller-scale disasters where existing social structures remain partially intact, catastrophic collapse temporarily eliminates the organizational capacity for coordinated action, hostile or otherwise. Survivors in the first weeks will be focused on immediate personal survival. During this brief window, other survivors can generally be trusted to be cooperative and helpful, as the shared experience of massive loss promotes prosocial behavior." The manual continued, further down: "Warning: This cooperative phase is temporary. As basic survival needs are met, humans will inevitably begin forming new social groups, 'tribes,' and power structures to replace those lost. Competition for resources will resume once excess pre-collapse supplies have been exhausted. Early contact and alliance formation during the cooperative phase is essential for long-term survival." Upon reading this, Andy elected to make the following post on twitter: "Ranger Andy Rhee, Yosemite National Park. Three possibly immune, North Pines/Ranger housing. Food plentiful, limited medical. Starlink operational. Main roads clear, helicopter landing sites available. Will monitor channel here & @Beacon." He followed it up with a post linking the survival manuals. He then switched to Beacon, created an account, and made the same posts. A slight rustling from inside the cabin drew his attention back to their immediate situation. He quietly stepped inside, retrieving the digital thermometer from his first aid kit. Sarah stirred slightly as he approached but didn't wake when he gently pressed the thermometer to her temple. 99 point 1, much better than this morning. He checked his own temperature next: 98 point 9. Their mild cases seemed to be resolving as quickly as they'd come on. He set his phone alarm for 5:30AM, enough time to get to Daniela's cabin by six as promised. The couch wasn't particularly comfortable, but he'd slept in far worse places. As he settled in with a spare blanket, his ranger training kicked in, categorizing the night sounds filtering through the cabin walls. Crickets. An owl. The distant yip of coyotes. Normal sounds. Safe sounds. The last thing he saw before drifting off was the green status light of the Starlink array through the window, blinking steadily like a new kind of star. The group assesses their situation, plans to leave Yosemite. Day 5, Pre-Dawn The alarm's buzz jolted Andy awake, but another sensation immediately registered, the rich aroma of fresh coffee. Sarah was curled up in his reading chair, scrolling through her phone, but as soon as she heard him stir, she immediately switched it off and turned her full attention to him. She'd changed into a new Alo Yoga set, a lavender sports bra under a white cropped tank, paired with high-waisted leggings in a matching shade. Her hair was pulled back in a messy-but-somehow-perfect bun, showing off her neck and shoulders. The fever flush was completely gone, replaced by her natural warm complexion. "Morning," she said warmly, uncurling from the chair with a practiced, fluid grace. "Made coffee. The fancy pour-over kind I found in your kitchen. Hope that's okay." Her hazel eyes met his, lingering just a moment too long as she took in his rumpled ranger uniform. "Sorry about commandeering your bed. I just meant to take a quick nap." She gave him an apologetic smile. Andy accepted the steaming mug she offered, trying not to notice how the morning light played across her toned body. "No problem. I'm used to sleeping rough. Comes with the job." Sarah tucked her legs under her on the couch next to him. The expensive fabric of her leggings caught the light as she moved, and she settled slightly closer than necessary, her knee just barely brushing his thigh. "I need to head out in about thirty minutes," Andy said, checking his phone. "There's another survivor at the park. A ranger's daughter. Her quarantine period ends at six." Sarah's eyes lit up. "Wait, really? Someone else made it?" She sat straight. "Yes. Daniela. She's fourteen, Miguel's daughter, one of our senior rangers. He;" Andy paused, remembering Miguel's final words. "He's not gonna make it." He took a deep breath. "Miguel was a big prepper. He made sure Daniela would be ready for anything. Kid's probably better prepared for this than me, honestly. He was ex-Marine, trained her in everything, survival skills, firearms, emergency medicine. I've seen her take apart and reassemble a rifle blindfolded." Sarah's eyebrows rose. "Fourteen? God." Her expression softened. "Must have been intense, growing up like that. Learning survival stuff instead of just; being a kid." "Miguel was," Andy searched for the right words. "He was paranoid I guess. We used to joke about his 'disaster preparedness' lectures." He snorted gently, irony in his voice. "And her mom?" "Passed away years ago, while Daniela was a child. Aneurysm." Andy took another sip of coffee. "Miguel basically raised her alone." Sarah held her coffee mug, pulling her legs toward her and wrapping her arms around them. "Damn, she's been through a lot already, huh? I hope she's alright." She glanced down at her designer workout wear and gave a small, self-aware smile. "Well, we should probably get ready to meet our teenage survival expert. Think she'll judge my completely impractical apocalypse wardrobe?" Andy couldn't help but smile. "Probably." He paused, then added, "Have you found Beacon yet? The Twitter alternative?" "Yeah, I was just reading through it earlier," Sarah leaned forward, coffee forgotten. "There's a virologist who's been collecting data. Says survival seems almost completely random, except for this weird seven-to-one female-to-male ratio and a slight correlation with genetic relatedness,, like if your sister survived, you had maybe a tiny bit higher chance. But besides that;" She shook her head. "No pattern. Not health status, not location or exposure level, or ethnicity, not even age. Just random genetic lottery. Either your b-cells already make the right antibodies, or they don't. I'd guess there's actually some correlation with age like there is with any disease, old immune people might still die from the mild flu symptoms we had. But; well," she sighed. "I doubt enough people are surviving in the first place right now to get that kind of data." Andy raised an eyebrow. She caught his look and shrugged, waving her hand casually. "I'm a biology major. Molecular cell biology. We learned some of this stuff last year." She continued, "Anyway, other than that it was mostly random people and groups asking for help, or offering help. It seems like all our old governments, systems, whatever, they're all gone." "Yeah. It's a whole new world out there." Andy said. "Have you thought about posting anything?" "I wasn't sure if it would be safe," Sarah admitted. "Announcing our location." "Actually," Andy said, "I already made a post last night. I was able to download survival manuals last night and they had an interesting take on it, right after something this catastrophic, people are still in shock, focused on basic survival. They don't have the resources or organization yet to be really dangerous. It's actually the best time to make contact, before people start forming new power structures and competing for resources and territory." "I see," Sarah said, working through the implications. "So what did you post?" "Just the basics. That there were survivors at Yosemite, that we have Starlink, medical supplies. That the roads are clear if anyone needs to reach us. Links to the same survival manuals." He took another sip of coffee. "Figured we should make connections while people are still helping each other." Sarah's lips curved slightly into a soft grin. "So, if you'd found me a few weeks from now, you wouldn't have been so friendly?" "Hey, don't ask me," Andy raised his hands in mock defense. "The manual knows best. Apparently I'm destined to become dangerous and territorial any day now." "Guess I met you at just the right time then," she said softly, her eyes meeting his for a moment before looking away. A quiet moment passed between them, the morning sun slowly brightening the cabin. "Where are you studying?" Andy asked, then caught himself. "Or; were you studying?" Sarah's face flickered with something complicated. "Was. Am? I;" She took a breath. "Biology at UCLA. Second year." Her voice grew quiet. "I kept searching Beacon for anyone from campus, but; nothing yet." Day 5, Morning Daniela was already sitting outside on a bench by the cabin when they arrived, military-surplus backpack at her feet, a shotgun slung over her shoulder, dressed in practical outdoor wear that made Sarah look especially out of place. She stood as they approached. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight, no-nonsense braid, and she sat with straight-backed posture, almost too straight, like she was holding herself together through sheer will. "Ranger Rhee," she said crisply, standing as they approached. She let her eyes drift to Sarah, taking in the expensive athleisure wear and aggressively feminine curves with a quick, assessing glance that held equal parts teenage girl's envy and survival expert's dismissal. "Daniela, this is Sarah," Andy said. "She's another survivor, immune like us." Daniela gave a short nod, then launched into what felt like a rehearsed speech. "Status report: fever peaked at 101.2 three days ago, now normal temperature for 48 hours. No remaining symptoms." She gestured to her pack, her words coming slightly too fast. "I've assembled primary survival gear, in case we need to leave in a hurry. Secondary cache inside includes a hand-crank radio set, four topographical maps of Yosemite and surrounding regions, California road atlas with marked backup routes, water filtration system, three weeks of MRE, six hundred feet of para-cord in various thickness, four heavy-duty tarps." She took a quick breath, her rehearsed rhythm barely faltering. "We also have a weapons cache. One Remington 700 bolt-action with scope and 1000 rounds, one Mossberg 500 shotgun with 1000 shells, four Glock 19s with 1000 rounds of 9mm, two semi-automatic AR-15s with 5000 total rounds. RPG-7 with eight rockets. Two cases each of fragmentation grenades and flashbangs. Ten pounds of C4 with detonators. A dozen anti-personnel and anti-vehicle mines." Andy's eyes widened at the arsenal, and Sarah let out a quiet "wow." Daniela continued at top speed without acknowledging their reactions. "Two sets of Level IV body armor with trauma plates. Four tactical vests. Medical supplies organized by emergency type. Dad's old paper survival guides and field manuals. Solar oven. Basic vegetable seed packets. Shortwave radio. Antibiotics." She paused. "And a sewing machine. Manual one. For repairs." That last item seemed to crack her professional veneer slightly. She looked at Andy, her carefully maintained composure slipping. "Have you; have you seen my dad since;? He; he hasn't been responding." Andy's expression told her everything before he could speak. "Not since the clinic," he said softly. Daniela's chin trembled once, but she snapped back into her military bearing so quickly it was painful to watch, like a child playing soldier to keep the monsters away. Her voice was smaller but desperately steady when she spoke again. "What's our next move, sir?" Andy stroked his chin, considering his words carefully. "I've only got the broad strokes of a plan right now. We've got internet at my cabin, Sarah brought a military-grade Starlink array." He gave Daniela a quick overview of what they'd learned: the devastating global death toll, the seemingly random pattern of who lived and died. He mentioned the scattered posts they'd seen on Beacon, survivors in major cities trying to connect, the complete collapse of traditional infrastructure. "Here's what I'm thinking," he continued, in an attempted measured tone. "We can't stay in Yosemite. Winter's going to be tough up here, isolated, we could probably survive if we stay indoors and eat canned food or whatever we can hunt the whole time but what would that get us? We wouldn't be any closer to setting up a long term settlement, even with your father's preparations;" He paused, careful with his words. "We need to find more people. We need to probably get to a major population center. More people means more survivors means more knowledge, more resources, better chances of rebuilding something sustainable." Daniela nodded, her expression suggesting she'd already run similar calculations. "I'd say we take a day or two here first," Andy added. "Sweep the park a few more times for survivors. Gather whatever useful supplies we can find from the stores, visitor centers, other ranger stations." "Ok, that makes sense. Where's my dad?" Daniela said quietly. Andy didn't hesitate. "He's at the clinic. East wing, near the supply cabinets. Do you want us to come with you?" She shook her head. "I'll go by myself." She was already turning to leave. Andy watched her go, knowing that splitting up wasn't ideal but reasoning that the park was likely empty now except for them, and with her confident shotgun slung over her shoulder, she could probably take care of herself. "Meet us back at my cabin later," he called after her. "And keep an eye out for any large trucks or gas canisters while you're out. We'll be checking the valley store," he added. "See what we can salvage." Sarah spoke up. "I'm really glad to meet you, Daniela. It's; it's good to have another girl alive." She gave a small self-deprecating smile. "I'm obviously not as prepared as you, but; I'll do my best to not be a burden." Daniela merely nodded, wearing a worried, distant expression, and headed off toward the clinic, her stride purposeful but tense. Day 5, Morning The morning air was crisp as they headed toward the valley store, Half Dome looming above them in the clear sky. Sarah walked close to Andy's side, her earlier morning quietness replaced by an almost nervous energy. "She's so; composed," Sarah said, shaking her head in wonder. "I mean, she's cataloging military-grade weapons like she's reading a shopping list." She adjusted her designer backpack, suddenly self-conscious. "Did you see how she looked at me? I swear I could hear her mentally calculating how quickly I'd die in the wilderness." The path narrowed between some fallen trees and Sarah stepped ahead, her juicy curves swaying hypnotically as she walked. Andy gave in and let himself watch, taking in how her expensive leggings showcased her plump rear and hips rolling side to side with each step. Her ass was built for likes more than functionality but no less captivating for it. "You know, she's not actually hating on you," he said, forcing his attention back to their conversation. "She just processes everything as tactical information, it's how Miguel trained her. Analyzing strengths, weaknesses, capabilities." Sarah tucked a strand of highlighted hair behind her ear. "An RPG though? Like, an actual bazooka? Does he expect to fight a freaking tank?" "Maybe. I wouldn't put it past him." Andy replied with a shrug. "But explosives actually have a lot of use besides tanks you know. If you need to blow up a wall or car someone is hiding behind for example. In war, you're often running out of RPGs before you run out of bullets." Sarah paused, considering. "Where does a park ranger even get that kind of stuff anyway?" "Miguel had connections from his Marine days. Never talked about them much." "God, poor kid." Sarah's voice softened. "All that training, and she still lost him anyway." She was quiet for a moment, then added, "At least she knows what to do now. I'm totally useless here." Andy glanced at her. "Hey, you brought the Starlink. And the filtration system. That's not nothing." "Yeah, but I wasn't even planning to use them." She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. "I didn't even know how they worked until yesterday. I was just supposed to make them look good in pictures." They rounded a bend in the path, the store's entrance coming into view. Sarah slowed slightly, her voice more thoughtful. "You know when Daniela was listing all that gear, there was something about the sewing machine. Do you think it was her mom's?" Andy nodded. "It was just;" She trailed off, searching for words. "Like for a second the whole soldier act dropped, and she was just a kid who lost her parents." Andy nodded, remembering the slight tremor in Daniela's voice at that moment. They reached the store's entrance, its glass doors standing partially open. Sarah instinctively moved closer to Andy's side as they faced the quiet and empty building. The morning light streamed through the store's high windows and skylights, illuminating neat aisles of outdoor gear and camping supplies. Everything was still in its place, the pandemic had moved too quickly for panic buying or looting. The store felt frozen in time, like its staff had simply stepped out for lunch and never returned. "Boots and outdoor gear are in the back left," Andy said, gesturing. "Look for something waterproof, with good ankle support. And grab some proper hiking pants, the kind with zip-off legs and plenty of pockets. I'm going to check our food supplies in the storage room." Sarah nodded, already moving toward the clothing section. "I'll try to channel my inner Daniela. No more Instagram fashion choices." Andy headed to the back of the store, past rows of camping equipment and climbing gear. The storage room door was locked, but a few solid swings with the fire axe he'd retrieved from its wall mount made short work of the deadbolt. Inside, he swept his gaze across rows of shelves stacked with boxes and crates. His shoulders relaxed as he took inventory, hundreds of cans of chili, soup, and vegetables. Sealed packages of dried fruits and trail mix. Energy bars by the case. Enough preserved food to feed a small group for months, maybe longer if they rationed carefully. Way more than they could possibly take with them. Returning to the main area, Andy methodically selected gear from the high-end section, a rugged Carhartt jacket, some water-resistant hiking pants, and a pair of well-reviewed Merrell boots to supplement his ranger gear. He grabbed a Leatherman Wave+ multi-tool, a pair of Vortex binoculars, and several high-end headlamps and lanterns with spare batteries. Making his way to the women's section, he found Sarah studying her reflection in a full-length mirror. She'd changed into a pair of olive-green tactical pants that, despite their utilitarian design, hugged her curves perfectly where they cinched at her waist. A cropped camo compression top showed off her toned midriff while providing actual support and protection. Black Salomon hiking boots replaced her pristine Nikes, and an Arc'teryx jacket in sleek black completed the ensemble. She'd managed to find gear that was both practical and flattering, the pants especially seemed designed to enhance rather than hide her natural assets. She turned slightly, checking the fit from different angles. "What do you think?" she asked, adjusting the jacket. "The pants are actually really comfortable. And this top breathes really well." She moved through a few stretches, testing the range of motion, the gear moving naturally with her body, causing her ample bust to jiggle pleasantly. Andy tried not to stare. "Those boots are perfect," Andy said, nodding approvingly. "Salomon makes some of the best. They'll last for years if you take care of them." Sarah bent down to grab another small pile of clothes from the floor. "I grabbed some things for Daniela too." "Good idea. How do you know what size she is?" Andy asked, eyeing the stack of clothing. Sarah laughed, a glint in her eyes. "Trust me, I can tell. It's a girl thing." She folded the clothes with efficiency, tucking them into a rugged canvas duffel bag and her new backpack. "Plus, everything I picked has adjustable waists and drawstrings. She'll be able to make it work." Day 5, Evening The crackling of the campfire filled the silence between them as they sat in front of Andy's cabin, the flames casting flickering shadows across their faces. Steam rose from their bowls of rehydrated beef stew. Daniela sat cross-legged on a log, her new pants and boots looking almost too perfect, still creased from their packaging. Her dark hair was pulled back in a fresh braid, but a few strands had escaped during the day's labor, clinging to her neck. Her spoon moved mechanically from bowl to mouth, her expression distant and detached. The blisters on her hands from digging the grave were hidden beneath fingerless gloves. Sarah sat on a camp chair, somehow making even that look graceful. She'd changed into black leggings and an oversized ranger station sweatshirt she'd found, her hair pulled up in a messy bun. Her eyes kept flicking to Daniela. Each time she caught herself watching too long, she'd look away quickly, taking small, careful bites of her stew. Andy was hunched over his phone, the light illuminating his face as he scrolled through Beacon posts. The Starlink array hummed softly behind them, its status lights reflecting off the cabin windows. "More reports coming in from the Bay Area," he said finally, breaking the silence. "Sounds like they're organizing some kind of central meeting point in San Francisco. Using the Presidio as a base camp." Sarah nodded, seizing the conversation attempt. "Makes sense. I've been there before. It's really pretty." Daniela continued eating mechanically, showing no response. The fire popped loudly, sending up a shower of sparks. Daniela's hand dropped down to her holster before she realized what she was doing, then went back to her food. Her face remained carefully blank, but her knuckles whitened around her spoon. Sarah's eyes met Andy's over the fire. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, turning her attention back to her own bowl. Andy set his phone down, choosing his words carefully. "We should probably talk about where we're heading. We've got some options to consider." Sarah chimed in again. "Yeah, like you said, the Bay Area seems to be organizing faster than anywhere else," she offered. "And my parents live in Palo Alto." She let the thought hang unfinished. "L A is an option, too;" Andy said, for now trying to brush past thoughts of Sarah's lost loved ones, and by extension his own as well. "More spread out, might be easier to find supplies. And Sarah you know the area pretty well I assume?" She nodded. He continued, thoughtful. "The Central Valley has farming potential, but no real organization showing up yet. Portland and Seattle are possibilities, but that's a long trek north. If we want to go south, Vegas and Phoenix also exist." The logo of Fallout New Vegas appeared in his mind's eye. "South is out," Daniela spoke suddenly, her voice flat. "Can't farm without major irrigation infrastructure. Nobody's maintaining those systems anymore." It was the most she'd said since returning from the clinic. Andy nodded. "True. We could probably gather enough fuel to make it across the country if we wanted to risk it, but;" "That's a lot of unknown territory to cover," Sarah finished. She pulled out her phone, scrolling through Beacon posts. "Though from what I'm seeing, the East Coast isn't doing any better than we are. Maybe worse, winter is coming." "The cold and snow would be a major disadvantage," Daniela said, her voice taking on the precise tone she used when reciting her father's lessons. "Increased resource consumption, limited farming windows, higher risk of mechanical failures in vehicles and equipment." She set her empty bowl aside. "California's the logical choice. Better climate, more stable growing seasons." "Agreed," Andy said. Daniela seemed to find stability in talking about this. "So that brings us back to L A versus the Bay." "The Bay Area is the only logical choice between the two." Daniela began ticking points off on her fingers, echoing discussions that had happened many times before. "The peninsula provides natural defensive positions. Multiple deep-water harbors for future maritime operations. Significantly more unpaved space for urban agriculture compared to the L A concrete sprawl." She continued briskly. "Plus, direct river access to the Central Valley farming regions around Stockton, where there's plenty of water for farming. From L A, you'd have to cross the Transverse Ranges to get to Bakersfield- that's a major liability for supply lines." Her voice took on an edge of disdain. "And farming that far south in the Valley isn't going to be viable anymore anyway, they're almost as reliant on irrigation as Phoenix or Las Vegas." She shook her head decisively. "The L A positioning is completely unsustainable. Anyone there should be evacuating to the Bay immediately." Andy nodded slowly, impressed but not surprised by the depth of analysis. He'd seen this level of preparation in everything Miguel and Daniela did. He glanced at Sarah, eyebrows raised in silent question. Sarah gave one of her small, self-deprecating smiles. "Don't look at me for expertise. The most strategic thinking I've ever done is planning photoshoots." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "But Daniela's logic makes perfect sense. I mean, it's clearly been; thoroughly thought through." "The Bay it is then," Andy said, straightening up. "We should take two days to prepare; we can stock up on food, supplies, and then pick cars. There are plenty of abandoned vehicles in the valley, we'll need time to find the right ones and load them properly. It's not a long drive, but we should be thorough." He looked between them both. "We leave in three days." To be continued. Based on a post by the hospital, for Literotica.
