Night fell swiftly in the Dead Zone, bringing with it cold that bit through Alexei's thin clothing. He made camp in the hollow remains of a two-story building, positioning himself where he could observe without being seen.
No fire. Too dangerous when he didn't know what might be watching.
Sleep came in fragments, each more disturbing than the last. Alexei dreamed of walking these same ruins, but in different seasons, with different purposes. In one, he was fleeing something vast and horrifying. In another, he was leading a group of hollow-eyed survivors. In yet another, he was hunting someone with cold precision.
He woke with a start, sweat beading his forehead despite the cold. The dreams had felt more like memories – but not his own. Or perhaps his, but from lives he hadn't lived.
"Neural damage from impact," he whispered, trying to rationalize the experience. "Or side effect of NCD neural implants malfunctioning."
Dawn brought new disorientation. As he surveyed the landscape, Alexei occasionally saw ghostly overlays – paths through the ruins that weren't there, then suddenly were. People moving in the distance who vanished when he focused on them.
His head throbbed with each occurrence. Still, he noticed something useful – the visions seemed stronger around certain locations, certain objects. Almost like...echoes of possibilities.
Curiosity overrode caution. Alexei approached an area where the visions were particularly strong – the remains of what might have been a memorial or monument. As he touched the weather-worn stone, a shock ran through his system. For a moment, he saw the monument intact, surrounded by mourners. Then another vision – the same location being used as an execution site. Then another – the stone repurposed as part of a defensive wall.
He jerked his hand away, gasping. Blood trickled from his nose.
"What's happening to me?" he whispered, wiping the blood away with trembling fingers.
Whatever these visions were, they appeared to show different versions of the same locations. Different possibilities. But using them – even just experiencing them – seemed to exact a physical toll.
By midday, Alexei discovered the first sign of current human presence – a crude marker made from scavenged materials, warning of danger ahead. The symbols used were unfamiliar, yet somehow he understood their meaning.
"Proximity mines," he murmured, then frowned. How did he know that?
He closed his eyes, allowing another vision to come despite the stabbing pain it brought. In the ghostly overlay, he saw figures moving carefully through this area, avoiding specific spots where disturbed earth suggested hidden explosives.
Following their path exactly, Alexei navigated the minefield. Each step brought fresh pain behind his eyes, but he pushed through it, focusing on the phantom footprints only he could see.
Beyond the minefield, he discovered the first settlement – structures built into a hillside, camouflaged to blend with the surrounding ruins. Before approaching, Alexei watched from concealment, studying patrol patterns and defenses.
The inhabitants wore mismatched clothing with distinctive red armbands. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter with a mix of pre-Collapse weapons and improvised tools of violence.
As night fell again, Alexei retreated to a safe distance. Blood dried on his upper lip from another nosebleed. His head pounded mercilessly, but his mind worked through possibilities.
He needed information before anything else. These people might provide it, if approached correctly. But the wrong approach would mean death.
In the darkness, he closed his eyes and allowed the visions to come one last time, searching for glimpses of interactions with the settlement. The pain nearly overwhelmed him, but before unconsciousness took him, he saw what he needed – a patrol route that would pass near his position at dawn, and a glimpse of how different approaches affected their response.
As he slipped into darkness, he wasn't certain if the blood now came from his nose or his ears.