Chương 66: Chapter 65 - Alpha (XXVII)

August 6, 2024 - Yarra Ranges, Australia Pablo broke the silence, leaning close to Jack.

"I don't like this, man. This is starting to feel… off. I mean, a helicopter? What the hell is really going on?" Jack didn't have an answer. He could only stare ahead at the dark forest below, the trees disappearing into shadows as the chopper ascended. As the helicopter neared the peak, Pablo could make out the changes. The campsite he had remembered was gone, replaced by a temporary but well-constructed base.

Lights glinted off metal structures nestled between the trees, and a helipad had been cleared, likely where they were about to land. He remembered the campsite being rather small if his memory served him right, but it seemed to have been slightly expanded. Even with the care for preservation evident in the meticulous actions taken to protect the environment, the base had clearly grown. The helicopter touched down gently, and the soldier motioned for them to disembark.

Pablo and Jack stepped out into the crisp night air, the temperature noticeably colder at this altitude. Around them, soldiers moved efficiently, setting up equipment and maintaining a secure perimeter. A middle-aged man with a prominent mustache approached them, his military bearing unmistakable. His face was weathered but calm, and his eyes held an unreadable expression.

"Welcome to the temporary Sugarloaf base, I am Captain Goodfred," he said, his tone neutral.

"We've established a base here to monitor the area and await your friend's arrival." Pablo and Jack exchanged a quick glance, both trying to process what they had just heard. All this just to wait for Alonso's arrival? The captain seemed to notice the confusion in their expressions.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," he said, his voice softening.

"Why don't we sit down and have a chat? By the way, have you had dinner yet? We've got some provisions left—not gourmet, but it'll do." Pablo blinked, surprised by the offer of food in such a tense situation.

"No, we haven't eaten," he admitted, the day's events having left his stomach tied in knots.

"Good," Captain Goodfred replied with a nod.

"Come on, I'll have something brought over while we talk." He led them toward a cluster of tents, each lit by soft, dim lights. The captain gestured for them to sit around a simple fold-out table near one of the tents. A soldier brought over a few MREs (Meals Ready-to-Eat) and placed them on the table before disappearing into the shadows.

"So," Captain Goodfred began, tearing open his own meal packet.

"Here are some provisions, just in case. It may be a long night." Pablo looked at Jack, but both refrained from eating.

"Well, you're missing out," the captain remarked with a faint, dry smile as he took his first bite from the packet. He chewed for a moment, then continued.

"So, where do we start? Oh yes, why are you here. Well, there was no one closer to bring, really. Alonso's dad is dead, his mother is in a coma, and the rest of his family isn't in Australia—and frankly, they're not very close to him either." He paused for a moment, watching their reactions, then added, "So, we did a bit of digging and found you two. Am I correct to assume you two are good friends of Alonso Shemson?" Pablo swallowed hard.

"Yes, we are," he replied, his voice a bit shaky. Jack nodded as well, though his expression was grim. The captain gave a slow, understanding nod, his eyes scanning the camp before settling back on them.

"Good. It would've been quite funny if we brought the wrong people," he chuckled lightly. The captain cleared his throat, his demeanor shifting back to professionalism.

"Alright, now that we've established you're the right people for this, let's focus on why you're really here. I suppose you're aware of the Standard Returnee Protocol (SRP) here in Australia, right?" Pablo nodded.

"Yes, sir. There's an interview with the returning climber and a general assessment before they're allowed to reintegrate into society."

"Yeah, that's mostly right," the captain said, leaning forward slightly.

"But you understand, not all climbers can reinsert easily back into society. The news hasn't hidden it: cases of climbers becoming violent have been an issue worldwide. Security personnel, healthcare workers, and even passersby have been attacked or killed by climbers. It's not as rare as you might think." Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Pablo and Jack both listened intently as the captain continued.

"And let's not stop there. In some less developed areas, climbers have gained strong religious followings. Some have even joined terrorist groups, which have become a real hassle to deal with. But more concerning than that is the fact that, as time passes inside The Tower, climbers grow stronger, and the longer they remain, the more potentially dangerous they become." The captain paused for a moment, letting that sink in. Pablo shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Luckily, Australia's population is relatively low, so we don't have as many returnees. We've managed to handle the issues pretty well, with more than 70% of climbers successfully reintegrating into society. And of those, 40% have already completed their short probation period." The captain continued.

"Now, that brings us to the current state. As you—oh wait, that's actually set to be released tomorrow to the public. Well, no harm in knowing it now." He pulled out his phone, quickly tapping the screen and typing a few things before glancing back at them.

"As of this moment… yes, only 112 climbers remain inside The Tower worldwide." Pablo's eyes suddenly widened.

"Pardon, sir, but you mean out of the one million people that were sent to The Tower, only… 112 remain?" Jack asked, clearly taken aback by the news.

"Yep," the captain replied with a nod, "and in that small group, we've got two Aussies: Steve Hutchinson and Alonso Shemson. So, I guess that sheds a bit of light on why, well"—he looked around the camp, gesturing at the heightened security—"we're taking this a bit seriously." He gave a small, tight smile. Jack was silent for a moment, his brow furrowed. Then, in a voice tight with unease, he asked, "So… we're here so Alonso can see some familiar faces? We're just an extra precaution?

Is Alonso really expected to be that dangerous?" The captain sighed, his expression turning serious once again.

"It's not that simple," he said.

"We don't know for sure how Alonso will come back—if he's still the same person you knew. Every climber has their own experience in The Tower. Some return changed, unpredictable. But what we do know is that Alonso, right now, is dangerous—and with every second he spends in there, he becomes even more so. That doesn't necessarily mean he'll be violent or unstable, but," he paused, his face momentarily darkening, "he is, or will be, from a purely individual perspective, one of the most powerful humans on Earth."

What! Alonso jolted upright, instinctively grabbing his sword with a tight grip. Then, after a moment of panic, he laughed at himself.

"I really need to change how this alarm works," he muttered, shaking his head. He had programmed his self-made internal EM alarm system to wake him by automatically sending certain 'alarming waves.' For today, he had set it to wake him as soon as the sun began to rise. After all, today was the big day. He stood up and did some stretches, loosening the tension in his muscles. Today, he'd need every ounce of focus.

After packing his sling ammunition and securing the sling carefully at his back, he turned his gaze to the makeshift shield he had finished crafting yesterday. Yes, I copied that Asian girl. And yes, Houston was insufferable about it. But he had to admit, the shield was worth every ounce of effort and annoyance it had taken to make it. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it earlier. The shield made traversing the worm-infested areas much easier.

Why rely solely on his vest when a shield could provide that extra layer of defense? And better yet, he'd designed it so that he didn't even have to grip it all the time. The shield was simple but effective, crafted from panther hide stretched tightly over a frame of bones he had scavenged from one of his earlier kills. The bones provided the necessary rigidity, while the tough hide was durable enough to absorb the impact from the worms.

Alonso had strapped the shield securely to his left forearm, leaving his hand free. This allowed him to still grip his sword with both hands for added power or use his sling without any restriction. The shield was small, more like a buckler, its compact size and light weight ensuring it didn't hinder his movements. It was a much-needed addition to his arsenal.

"I should consider adding leathercrafting to my status screen," he murmured, satisfied with his preparation as he gazed ahead. And yes, he had slept with the armor on. He always did, even though it wasn't the most comfortable choice." So much for wearing armor to bed when you're naked on the beach."" Oh, good morning, Houston. You can stay sleeping if you want."" Not a chance. I wouldn't miss this for the world."" Oh, but I insist." He took a deep breath and glanced at the poorly made shelter.

"We only spent a couple of nights together, but I won't forget you."" Wasn't that what you said to —""Fuck off, Houston," he muttered, blushing as the words slipped out loud. He gazed back in the direction of the shore, even though the beach wasn't visible from where he stood.

"I will… Nah, I won't miss the leeches." With his farewells done, Alonso slung the large, roughly woven backpack over his shoulder. The pack was a crude yet sturdy creation, made from jungle vines and hide. Inside, it held the essentials for his journey: self-made containers filled with coconut water, carefully packed pieces of cooked panther meat from the night before, and chunks of the coconut's white flesh. It was time for the journey with no return.

"Wish me luck, Houston."" Don't die too early."