The Wilderness Will Kill You First

Day 7 – Into the Wild

Daniel Holt had spent most of his life preparing for the collapse of civilization.

What he hadn’t accounted for was how utterly quiet the end of the world would be.

The deeper he moved into the Blue Ridge Mountains, the more the sounds of the dying world faded behind him. No gunfire. No sirens. No screaming.

Just the wind through the trees.

And the gnawing realization that he was truly alone now.

The moment Daniel pulled the stranded family into his truck, he knew he had made a mistake.

The father, Michael, sat stiffly in the passenger seat, his fingers twitching against his knees. His wife, Sarah, clutched their daughter in the back, whispering reassurances even though the little girl, Hannah, hadn’t said a word since getting in.

They were not built for this world.

Michael looked like the kind of guy who worked a desk job and mowed his lawn every Saturday. Sarah had the soft features of someone who believed in kindness, and that alone made Daniel wonder how far they’d make it.

He focused on the road. This wasn’t his problem.

“I can take you as far as Boone,” he said flatly. “That’s it.”

Michael nodded, but the tension in his face told Daniel he was already trying to push for more.

Daniel ignored it. He wasn’t here to save anyone.

They had been traveling for almost a full day when they ran low on gas.

Daniel knew stopping was a risk, but the farther they went into the mountains, the harder it would be to find fuel. A small gas station just off the highway still had a few vehicles parked outside.

The lights were off, but the door was unlocked.

That was the first bad sign.

“Stay in the truck,” Daniel muttered as he grabbed his revolver.

Michael hesitated. “Let me help.”

Daniel cut him a sharp look. “You ever been in a firefight before?”

Michael swallowed. “No.”

“Then stay in the truck.”

Inside, the store was a wreck—shelves looted, the smell of rotting food and blood thick in the air.

He moved through the aisles quickly, grabbing anything useful—canned beans, bottled water, a first-aid kit.

Then he heard the floor creak behind him.

He spun just as a man lunged at him, swinging a rusted tire iron.

Daniel barely ducked in time. The iron slammed into the counter, sending up a shower of broken glass.

Instinct took over. He aimed. He fired.

The gunshot echoed through the small store, and the man collapsed instantly, blood pooling beneath him.

Silence.

Then a sharp inhale from the doorway.

Daniel turned.

Michael stood there, eyes wide, hands shaking.

"You—" Michael’s voice cracked. "You just—"

Daniel holstered his gun. "Get the bags. We're leaving."

Michael didn’t move.

"You killed him," he whispered.

Daniel exhaled sharply. "You think he was gonna invite me over for dinner?"

Michael’s gaze dropped to the body. His hands trembled.

This man had never seen real violence before.

And now he realized exactly what kind of person Daniel was.

By the next day, the air in the truck was poisoned with silence.

Michael barely looked at Daniel. Sarah held Hannah close, murmuring soft reassurances. The little girl still hadn’t spoken.

When they stopped for the night near a small river, Michael finally said what had been building for days.

"We can’t go to Boone."

Daniel tensed. "That’s the deal."

Michael shook his head. "No, listen—Boone’s too dangerous. We need to keep going west. You have supplies. You have a plan. We can help each other."

Daniel let out a bitter laugh. "What the hell do you bring to the table, Michael?"

Michael stiffened. "I—"

"You can’t fight," Daniel continued. "You can’t hunt. You can’t even handle the sight of blood without shaking like a leaf."

Michael’s face turned red. "I can learn."

Daniel stared at him for a long moment.

Then he shook his head.

"You’re gonna get your wife and kid killed, Michael."

Michael's fists clenched. Sarah’s soft gasp told Daniel she was just as shocked as her husband.

But it was the truth.

And deep down, Michael knew it.

By the next morning, the decision was made.

Daniel left them at an abandoned rest stop, leaving behind half a bag of supplies and a spare knife.

Sarah cried.

Hannah just watched him.

She still hadn’t said a word.

But as Daniel walked away, he heard her voice for the first time.

“Will you come back?”

Daniel froze.

He didn’t turn around.

Because if he did, he might not leave.

"No," he said quietly.

Then he kept walking.

And he never saw them again.

Daniel sat on the cot inside his remote cabin, staring at the ceiling.

His body ached from the trek, his muscles stiff, but it wasn’t fatigue that kept him awake.

It was the look in Hannah’s eyes.

She had been too young to understand the world had ended.

But she had been old enough to understand that Daniel had left her behind.

Outside, a branch snapped in the woods.

Daniel shot up instantly, reaching for his knife.

A figure moved in the trees.

Not a group. Just one person.

A woman, thin and exhausted, with a rifle slung over her back.

Daniel stepped outside, heart still hammering. “Stop right there.”

She froze. “I just need food,” she rasped. “That’s all.”

Daniel stared at her.

She looked like she had been on the road for days.

He should have helped her.

He should have cared.

But all he could hear was Hannah’s voice.

"Will you come back?"

He cocked the hammer of his revolver.

"Turn around," he said. "Walk away."

She hesitated. Then she muttered, "People like you won’t last either."

Then she disappeared into the trees.

And Daniel felt nothing at all.