Father Nicodemus stood at the altar of a church in the third wall of the mountain base. He was a man whose face was a map of every tragedy he had witnessed since the world ended. Before him, lined up in a grim, silent row, were the coffins of the people who hadn't made it back from the forest.
Their presence a chilling reminder that life was not guaranteed in the apocalypse. One second, they were preparing for their return to the base, and the next, death sought them. Those who had survived the trip had harrowing tales to tell, especially about the hum sound which had stripped them of all their will to move and left them vulnerable.
Many were not too eager to creep around in the parts of the forest that were deep and not under the protection of the bubble. In fact, even with the bubble, the forest was still deadly.
