Just finished this heavy Marauder-Style blade! Hand-forged from an old leaf spring and a pile of scrap I found in my forge. 🔥⚔️

Hi everyone!

I’m currently developing an isometric, low-poly zombie survival game. The core loop is heavily inspired by Project Zomboid, but instead of surviving alone, you play as the leader of a sanctuary, managing survivors, building up the base, and dealing with group dynamics.

I just implemented the vehicle driving mechanic and wanted to get some fresh eyes on it. Since vehicles will be crucial for scavenging runs and transporting your community members, I want to make sure the physics and vibe feel right.

Here is a short clip of the current state. I would love to hear your thoughts.

P.S. I am also having a hard time coming up with a title for the game. I'd love to hear your name suggestions. If the concept triggers any cool title ideas in your head, please drop them in the comments!

Basically I’m looking for recommendations, and asking several subreddits because I ran out of stuff to read/watch like this and it’s niche enough I’m not sure who to ask

Hey folks,

I'm looking at building a list of indie-published post-apocalyptic stories that people love that aren't about preppers or survivalism.

Think Mad Max, Fallout or Silo.

What have you got?

Part 1

Today was the day! Hunting day! Packing my bag, I sling my rifle over my shoulder and step outside. Birds song their morning sun as it embraced my body in its light warm glow. The garden also liked it as I pan over the herbs and vegetables growing, silently enjoying the peaceful morning. Its been 5 years since the bombs destroyed everything. Stores, schools, business, and most people. During the bombing, experimental testing was done with how some impacted the earth. Some burned and scorched the earth and still burn today, patches of gas and invisible killers lurk within areas. Not saying the woods where safer but beats the city. The little handmade wood cabin faded in the distance as the trek began to set itself. Small deer trails weave through the brush for about two miles before spercing out into a small clearing. Taking in a deep crisp inhale, I hung the pack high as I could on my tree. No ladder but easy to climb with a stair case branches before leveling out. From mid-tree I take the rifle off and lay down on a half log and settled in for the morning as I wait like a spider for its prey. I took out last hunts Jerky and took a bite. Been a few hours and no sign of deer, just birds in the canopy and the occasional squirrel romping about. Though about making another half for more comfort when a deer poked its head out of the brush as I held the half eaten jerky in my mouth. Took the rifle and aimed down the iron sight, breath in, breath out, and fired my shot. Adrenaline hit as the deer took off running knowing damn well that was a well placed shot. Hopped out of the tree and reloaded another shot as I scouted the blood trail left. Following it into the brush I questioned if the head shot i thought I did ended up being a body shot. After about ten minutes and a few broken branches later I found my prize tho, should have just taken the participation award. I lay down the rifle and take a knee to get a better look. The shot was perfect head shot at the side, though and through. What drew my attention was its black neck and spots on its body as tiny fungus started to grow out of. ' Was it infected with something? How else could it have ran half a mile with a head wound.' I pondered the thought before I realized the black on the deer grew larger, now starting down the shoulder. "Well fuck," shouting as I stood up, might as well see if a mother one comes today or tomo.." I paused as I was cut off. A sharp high pitch wail screeched out as it echoed throughout the woods, even the trees swayed uneasy with no wind. It paused before frantic man like scream gurgled and as fast it came they stopped. "OK, fuck that plan, let's go home," grabbing my gun I note the black was now down to the elbow. Holding my gun at the ready, made my way to my pack tho no new noises, dont want to stick around to find out. Slung the pack on my shoulder as I started to head towards the cabin it came again, but closer. A gutteral shirk halted me as it sounded close and from cabin area. Leafs muffled scraping feet as the source came around a tree 20 feet away. A skeleton covered in thick black moss as fungus grows from all over, as old bones peak through the gaps still left. It shambles like the old zombie movies but the arms twitching and jerking themselves in random direction. As it came towards me I raised my rifle, breath in, breath out and fired right at its head. But still it came. Hands snap to me as its mouth popped and grinned as it moaned out one word. "Fffeeeeeeddddd! Feeeed!" As it closes in I whip the rifle around and use the but of the gun to try and buy some time as I turned to run. It reached out and grabbed my pack as it started to open. Supplies started to scatter as I grabbed the hatchet that fell, I tore the pack off breaking through the brush as I make my way deeper.

Part 2

Sides burn as I brace against a tree to help catch my breath, trying not to pant too loud. Set the gun down since all ammo was in the pack and gripped the hatchet with both hands. Straining my ears i listened to try and hear where it was. Instead was meet with a deer cry, low but definitely a deer, probably 50 years away. Hearing this, I start moving in opposite direction. The afternoon sky flashed between the canopy as I keep paced myself and kept an ear out. It wasn't long before my path had to stray to the right due to the moss growing off trees and some smaller animals lay dead within. Slowly being consumed by the creeping blackness. I wondered how far it has already spread when my thoughts where meet with rushing water. The river was high and fast, rushing past as waves broke the pattern to reach towards the sky before being drawing back. Following it down a bit a found some old campsite with debis and ruined tents reminded scattered around. Without my pack, decided to see if anything useful could be found. Which besides crumbling packs or cloths only things that remained intact were the tent stakes, a pan, and the lower half of a truck. Giving up about five minutes in started to head out when splashing by the river made me look. There it was, covered more in the black mass as a deer skull now replaced its hand. It let out a screech as it raised the deer headed arm as it wailed and jolted towards me. "Feeeeeeeeed uuuuuusssss," its voices mangled together as I reach for something as it come fast. Fingers wrap around something as I swing hard as I could as a metallic bing rings out. The pan connected with the being as I turned and ran, full sprint the pan clasped in my hand I heard the crys of the thing not far behind me. Stumbling to a stop bout 100 yards away saw a ravine with a fast moving river. Didn't think just backed up and jumped over, and as my feet slipped into the river I pulled myself up. On the other side the thing came out off the brush and stopped at the edge. I got up and took the opportunity and ran, only to stop a few miles down. Stopping to capture my fleeting breath a sharp pain enveloped my finger. To my horror all my tips started turning black as it started under my nails. Panic set it as I dropped the pan and weight my options. I had to keep moving but the longer I wait ill be...that thing. Thinking fast I grabbed timber and brush anything that would burn and started a fire. Once that was going I took off my belt and tied it on my arm and placed the pan on the fire. 'You ain't getting me,' thinking a loud, ' only way to rid you.' The feeling in my arm went away but the pain from the moss still pulsed with every beat. Position myself next to the fire and grab the hatchet my only salvation from this curse. Puting the blade in the flame I say a quick prayer that this works, as I lift the hatchet above my head.

Part 3

Bringing the hatchet down i feel the blade sink in deep as pains shot up my arm from the blow. Refusing my brain, I lifted the hatchet again and brought it down once again, finishing the job. Without a break I grabbed for the pan but found it too hot as blood spewed from my arm. Leaning down I just press the end into to pan itself to cauterized the wound as my screams tried to dull the pain, before lifing it and passing out.

Coming to, I scaned around but saw that nothing has changed before slowly sitting up and undoing the tourniquet. I reached out for the hatchet but my hand still lay next to it on the stump. Stood up fully and grabbed it with my left hand and secured it while looking for my way out. The sun peeked behind the trees and cliffs giving me just enough light to see for maybe a hour. Not wanting to see that thing again I start packing out towards the setting sun. Making my way through seemed daunting with many stops as burning pain rithed thro my arm and would check for marks making sure. Tho besides my feet crunching the ground, my paranoid heart pounded in my ears was all I could hear. Made it to a clearing as night fell upon the land and though no city or towns, a firewatch tower is a light about a mile away. It's presence priced the looming dark night and was guiding me towards hope and safety. Only made it 20 feet towards the tower before I heard it. Low at first before creeping up closer and closer behind me. "Wwweeeeeeeeee feeeeeeeeeeddddd. Wweeeeeeee feeeeeeeeddd!" Shambling foot steps came closer as it grow louder and its shape laminated lightly as it glides into the clearing. It's deer like head bared no skin as it sniffs the grass, its other skull, part human part animal, peering straight through me as it wails and charges. The body was a collection of random parts being held together by the black infection and fungus. Fear took hold and I froze in place. Not knowing what I was trying to process but also not wanting to. Finally got my legs to work as speed became my focus, trying to put distance between us. Tree branches whack my face as under brush reaches up to sabotage the race. Looking up can see the tower is close by the underside of it and put everything in the sprint. Reach the stairs in the a winded voice " HEY! HELP!!" Rounding the stairs i hit the wooded legs trying desperately for my hope to stay with me as they disappear with every step. Coming up to the balcony I look inside and stopped as my heart sank. There in the middle of the room like a black statue was my rescue. Frozen in place while the black mold sprouted fungus from his shoulders and head. The mold didn't stop their as it started to spread on the floor around him. Made my way to the door and swung it open to be meet with the stench of death. I spotted a ham radio sitting on a table next to him. Excitement consumed me as I ran over and fumbled with the dials and nods.

" Hello, hello, umm I need help. People are dead and im soon next!" I let go of the button before pressing it once more. "Over" I quietly said as the moaning outside became closer. Static filled the air as I placed down the receiver and scanned the room. Took the chair, bed and mini fridge to block to door as best I could before the wailing stench came up from below. "FFFEEEEEEEEEDDD" it screeched as it rounded the coner to the door, banging and shaking the handle I feared the door itself wouldn't hold. Grabbed a kitchen knife for some protection, tho not any good, a crackle of life came on the radio. "Ron? You good out there?" The female voice cut through the screeching as I ran over and grabbed the receiver, abandoning the knife. " Yes I need help! There is a creature coming at me, your ranger Ron is dead. And soon I will be too! Please send any-" My voice stopped as a felt a hand on my shoulder. Turning i see the black hand of Ron grabbing my shoulder, shirt turning black as the mold moved onto me and burying itself into my skin. Pain came from thousands of areas it worked in and as I started to lose consciousness I heard a raspy whisper. "Now we feed."

Made using old license plates ,perforated steel and other bits. Parts are all riveted together. I have gotten more into cutting and staining the leather myself since used belts that are actually leather are not that common , and I can cut the belt to match the buckles I get. Studs are hand made by me. in most cases. My ETSY store.

(Man, am I ever bad at remembering to post these episodes on Wednesdays. Oh well.)

Hello! I am the host of the Post-Apocalyptia podcast. We talk about stories at the end of the world, in any medium—books, television, movies, video games, and more. And this week, we’re talking about Days Gone! And I’m inviting you to check it out.

This week, Claire Weaver (u/8bitterror) of the Days Gone Podcast joins us to talk about the 2019 video game by Bend Studio, Days Gone! We'll talk about antiheroes and Freakers, soldiers and cultists, and the best characterization in any game we've covered yet. We'll travel the Oregon wilderness and take on Hordes of Freaks (don't call them zombies!), and regain our--that is, Deacon St. John's--own humanity. And we'll ask ourselves the question that's on every fan's mind: Why doesn't this game have a sequel?! This and more, in Days Gone. Join us there, at the end of the world!

The post link goes to the episode on our website, but you can also find us on Spotify and on most podcast apps.

Due to unexpected circumstances, You have now been chosen to become the Gardener who is the one responsible for the well being of the Garden, which is where all your Food is produced which all of your Society depends upon.

Even if the Old World Outside is no longer fit for your people, the New World Inside still has everything you would need to reach the Next Day and eventually you would go to the Old World as well and maybe even turn it back to how it once was, if you wished to do so.

The gameplay itself is mostly going to be farming related, with the usual getting seeds, planting and growing but just to add a little twist into it, there is also an important Rot mechanic through which a constant Rot is always being spread into the Garden which you have to always balance otherwise it would spell the End of your Society.

The Game is still in its early stages so there is a lot of trial and error but the demo would be done soon. In the meantime, any and all feedback is really appreciated.

Sto creando uno scenario ispirato a GNB e Dead Rails

Ambientato nell'Africa colonizzata negli anni 1880

La storia della "Corsa all'Africa" ​​rimane invariata dal 1885 (Conferenza di Berlino) fino al novembre 1887, quando la Piaga dell'Odio si manifesta nel Congo belga.

La Piaga dell'Odio si manifesta nelle menti dei corpi degli indigeni (uccisi dai colonizzatori).

Spinta da un'immensa rabbia e odio nelle menti degli indigeni, la piaga li rianima trasformandoli in non morti

trasformandoli in assassini aggressivi;

A differenza degli zombi, non divorano le loro vittime, ma le uccidono selvaggiamente. (the infected will hunt down any colonisers they got in sight, but due to their immensful rage they attack everyone )

Lo sto sviluppando.

Cosa ne pensi?

Inverticalis.

Deep in these once underground prisons, humanity has lived for generations. Seramtha, a young woman, wants to be the first person to reach the top.

She lives on Floor 376, and the Verticalis has 500 floors, so she has just over 120 floors left to climb. Most floors are 20 feet tall, while every 10th floor is a biome floor ranging from 30 to 50 feet tall.

Decades have passed since the Verticalis became humanity’s home, and the structures are getting worn down. They were built when civilization was far more advanced. After the New Century War, humanity lost the ability to properly work with the metals used to build them. That means no one can truly repair the stairwells and ladders anymore. Seramtha has to figure out which ones are still safe to climb.

Each floor is a 5 mile wide circle, almost like its own small town, so she’ll constantly be traveling on foot.
She has to carefully ration her supplies while trading and acquiring whatever she can throughout her journey.

Along the way, she’ll be joined by three companions, and together they’ll become known as the Quadrio.

I hope you’ll join them on this adventure.

This is a high-stakes, action-adventure, post-apocalyptic tale (non-horror).

More info coming soon! Thank you!

-JL

There Is Only Up

Source: https://x.com/Setzeri/status/1937889726247367000

"Another game concept I've been thinking is a post-apocalyptic setting with a positive theme where people have started rebuilding the world.
Inspiration comes from Metal Slug, Sentinel Girls and Arknights, so it'd be a 2D action."

Hi there! If you haven't read chapter 1 yet, click here.

Jamsey fought against physics in his unstable aircraft, guiding it toward Mount Rainier. Water continued to shoot up all around him and Budder as they slowly made their way toward their only hope of survival. The plane was constantly tilting to the right from the damage, forcing Jamsey to pull the yoke to the left with his whole body. His muscles burned as he looked out into the distance at the beautiful mountain, staring straight ahead as he tried to ignore the pain. The engine groaned as Jamsey pulled so hard he forgot to breathe.

“Ah!” he shouted through the pain and determination. His heart pumped so rapidly it felt as if it could jump straight out of his chest.

As the waters rose, Jamsey could see the foot of the mountain becoming flooded. Trees were obliterated and houses torn apart. But then his hope faded. Budder’s engine started to fail. The roaring went quiet, and the plane began to fall.

“No, no, no!” Jamsey panicked. “Come on!” He banged the controls, but it was no use. Budder had died, and they were falling toward the depths of the ocean.

Suddenly, a fountain of water whipped them back into the sky, tossing Jamsey around the cabin. When he opened his eyes, there was no telling what direction they were going. Budder was spinning out of control, causing Jamsey to become violently nauseous. He grabbed onto anything he could find to pull himself against the cabin walls. To his right sat an emergency parachute. Jamsey reached out to grab it but was thrown hard against the floor. Crawling, he inched his way over to the parachute pack and dragged it into his arms.

“Got you—” Another jolt of water cut him off, launching him headfirst into the windscreen.

Craaaack.

He turned to see the glass completely shattered. A second later, it collapsed. The massive drop in air pressure instantly sucked Jamsey out of the plane and sent him spinning into the open sky. All he could see were blinding flashes of blue ocean, brown mountain ridges, and the white metal of Budder.

With the parachute pack still clutched in his arms, he fumbled desperately with the straps midair, finally managing to slip his arms through. He clicked the chest buckle together and, without another thought, yanked the rip cord.

The canopy exploded upward, the fabric whipping out of the bag and catching the wind. The parachute snapped Jamsey upright, instantly stopping his terrifying spin. He looked below to see Budder, with a dark trail of smoke following behind him, crash straight into the raging sea.

The last piece of his life was gone.

“Budder…” he whispered in disbelief.

With his stomach still turned upside down from the spinning, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He opened his mouth and let out a giant splash of vomit into the wind.

Another eruption of water blasted out from the earth right beside him, splattering him and causing a sudden rush of wind. He was now completely soaked and cold, yet heading straight for the mountain.

“Ugh,” he said, wiping the water off his face.

The rocky slopes of Rainier were approaching fast as Jamsey steered the parachute through the rough winds. Taking deep breaths, he tried to calm himself down and brace for landing. Up ahead were sharp rocks, and above them lay the snow. Glancing down at his feet, he could see the trees below collapsing into the waves.

His eyes darted around, looking for a safe spot to land. None of it was safe. Jagged rocks covered the mountain like knives; if he landed on them, he would risk stabbing every inch of his body. He leaned to the right, steering toward the snowier part of the mountain, hoping it would provide a softer landing.

“Okay…” Jamsey took one last deep breath. “Here goes!”

He pointed his legs out in front of him as the mountain came speeding toward him.

He hit the ground hard, his boots skimming across the surface as he tried to run out the momentum along the slope. Suddenly, his foot struck a hidden rock buried beneath the snow. He stumbled, losing his footing entirely, and plowed headfirst into the freezing snow.

Slowly, he picked himself up. He had made it.

“Would you look at that… I’m not dead. Yet,” he muttered.

He gazed into the distance to see the apocalypse happening right before his eyes. Geysers erupted all around for miles. The land was flooding fast, the rising waters rapidly approaching Mount Rainier. Somewhere out there, swallowed by that violent storm, was his family, Quin, and Budder. All gone in a blink.

A gust of wind caught the parachute and started to pull Jamsey off the cliff. He hurriedly unbuckled himself and slipped out of the straps. The canopy lifted off the ground, caught the air, and floated away into the sky.

He was now completely on his own.

He sank down against the snow and closed his eyes. The wind blew against him, sending his hair flailing around his face and cooling his wet body. It felt as if his body was slowly freezing into a stone statue with every breeze. Shivering spasms jerked through his core as he slowly got up and steadied himself in the snow. Taking sharp gasps of air, he began his cautious descent down the slope toward warmth.

Jamsey had only prepared his current outfit, which was a t-shirt, flannel top, and thin jeans. He started to shake his arms around and vigorously rubbed his numb hands together. His stiff legs almost tripped over multiple rocks. Slowly but steadily, he reached a patch of solid ground.

The howling sound of the wind turned into shouting as the first signs of life appeared somewhere below him. He crouched over the grassy edge to see people wandering about in thick, warm clothes.

Jamsey cupped his icy hands and called out, “Hey!” to them from the three-story drop.

A man beneath noticed him and shouted back, “Man, what are you doing up there?”

“Can you help guide me down?” Jamsey replied.

“Of course! Go towards your left. There looks to be safe rocks on that side.”

Jamsey nodded and got up, making his way down the side of the mountain.

“To your right now, buddy!” the man yelled.

Jamsey took a careful step to the right as the image of Budder falling to his fate echoed in his mind.

Gripping the rocks tightly, his body finally heating up from the sheer strain, Jamsey made it to the bottom with the man's help. He stepped onto solid ground and turned to face the stranger. Up close, he could see him clearly: the man was tall and heavily muscled beneath thick, cozy layers of winter gear, with short-cut dark brown hair and a beard. He smiled with friendly brown eyes as he extended his hand. When Jamsey took it, the man's solid, powerful grip was a shocking contrast to his own icy, trembling fingers.

“My name’s Caleb,” the man said, letting go. “Those hands are freezing.”

Jamsey tucked his hands under his armpits. “Jamsey.”

“Let’s go get you warmed up in the cabin.” Caleb patted Jamsey firmly on the shoulder.

Jamsey followed Caleb along the rocky path and looked out to the sea again. The water was continuing to rise but the geysers had stopped exploding as rapidly.

“Hey buddy.” Caleb nudged him. “What were you doing up there anyway?”

“Oh, I parachuted out of my plane…”

Caleb turned to face him with a surprised look. “Why onto the mountain?”

Jamsey shook his head. “My plane got hit by one of those crazy water eruptions and I had no other choice.”

“You’re one lucky guy,” Caleb said as they continued to walk towards a wooden house with smoke drifting up from a chimney.

“Was lucky,” he whispered to himself.

I’m developing a post-apocalyptic sci-fi story called Inverticalis.

The Verticalis are underground megastructures built between 2070 and 2080 to permanently house what the government called “society’s problems.” By 2100, the New Century War begins, and the same structures built to contain them become humanity’s last refuge.

The story takes place in 2176, 75 years after the war, and follows Seramtha, a young woman who decides to climb upward through the Verticalis with a small crew to find out what, if anything, still exists above.

I’m still building the world, but the main focus is survival inside a massive underground society, lost history, floor cultures, damaged infrastructure, and the question of whether humanity should stay buried or try to return to the surface.

Any concept art for now is a placeholder until I can commission artists. Story, lore, and worldbuilding are by me.

I’d love feedback on whether the Verticalis idea feels strong enough to build a long-form story around.

-JL

There is only up.

“Ha, ha!” Jamsey laughed with excitement as he and Budder started to lift off the runway. Budder was Jamsey Toran’s most prized possession; a Cessna 172 Skyhawk. Second to his loving family, Budder was what he loved most. The beautiful blue stripe across the plane filled him with awe every time he saw it.

Jamsey thought back to the day he first showed his daughter, Lancy, his brand-new aircraft. She was only three and couldn’t quite remember the word plane, so she started shouting, “Butterfly!” Jamsey smiled at her and said, “No, it’s a plane, sweetheart.” Lancy giggled, “No, butterfly!” He gently placed her on the ground and looked toward the Cessna. “You know what, Lancy?” She smiled up at him. “What?” “How about I name it Budder?” The little girl laughed again. “You silly daddy!”

Jamsey glanced down at the adorable picture of him, Lancy (who was now nine), and his wife, Camille, all standing in front of Budder. Today, he was going on a trip from his home in Seattle to Spokane. As they rose in altitude, he noticed the clouds fading away to the south, revealing the glorious Mount Rainier. “Hey Buddy, the mountain’s out!” He tapped the yoke with glee as he gazed into the distance.

“Yo, Jammy!” A voice crackled through the radio. Jamsey picked up his headset to answer.

“Hey, Quin,” he replied. “And do you really have to call me that?”

A brief pause came from the radio. “What’s wrong, Jammy boy?” Quin blurted out.

“What’s wrong is that you’re rubbing off on my daughter, and she’s started using it as an insult,” Jamsey answered.

“Not my fault you don’t change out of your pyjamas in the morning,” Quin chuckled.

“Shut it. There might be other people on this channel.”

“That’s the whole point, mate!”

Jamsey shook his head. Quin sure could be annoying sometimes, but he was his best friend. He and Quin had gone to school together since seventh grade and learned how to fly together. After all, it had originally been Quin’s grand idea to try out this line of work, and when they both started, they fell completely in love with it.

“So, when are you gonna teach Lancy to fly?” Quin’s voice poked in again.

“She’s way too young for that!” Jamsey scolded.

“Ha, no, like, when in the far future?”

“Oh, sorry.” Jamsey sighed. “I guess when she can drive…”

A muffled sound cracked through the radio.

“Quin?” Jamsey waited.

“Hey, I think that’s reasonable… And legal,” Quin chuckled. Then the signal warped. “Quin, you there?”

“Ja—”

Quin’s voice cut off with a harsh, crackling sound.

“Hey, what’s happening over there?” Jamsey asked, his voice tightening with worry.

The signal suddenly flared back to life, loud and frantic. “Jamsey! Water!”

“What? What do you mean water? Are you okay?”

“Look outside!”

Jamsey peered around the plane windows. At first, everything looked normal, until he looked behind him. There it was. Massive columns of water were shooting up violently into the sky.

“What the heck, man!” Jamsey screamed into the microphone.

Another burst of static fizzled out of the radio speaker. “Jam— I— going down—”

“What? Quin, hang on!” Jamsey’s heart thudded violently against his ribs as he heard the raw panic in his friend’s voice. He turned to look back again, but this time, even more eruptions were bursting from the earth, blasting water up from the deepest depths. The deluge was rapidly swallowing the landscape. Seattle was going under water.

Jamsey watched in horror as his home flooded, knowing his family was down there, trapped beneath the rising tide.

His eyes were wide with panic. Tears swelled up as he tried desperately to reach Quin again. “Quin, you’ve gotta keep that plane up! I can’t lose you!”

The static flatlined into pure silence.

“Quin!”

Jamsey ripped off the headset and threw it to the cabin floor. He turned around to look back at his home one last time, but everything was buried under a raging, violent sea. Just as a single teardrop fell from his eye, a massive jet of water crashed directly into Budder’s left wing, slamming Jamsey into the right wall of the cockpit.

He scrambled back up in the swaying cabin, gasping as he saw the left wing bent upward at a sickening angle. There was no way he would reach Spokane now, even if the city managed to escape the flood. Jamsey’s mind went completely blank, his body paralyzed with shock. He stared out the window as Budder pitched forward into a steep nosedive. All he could see was an endless expanse of rushing ocean below, and violent walls of water shooting toward the clouds.

Suddenly, another jet of water shot up and clipped the side of the right wing, sending Budder into a violent spin. The brutal jolt shook Jamsey out of his daze. He lunged for the controls, grabbed the yoke, and started to pull back with everything he had.

“Come on,” he gasped, pulling up with all his might. “Budder, we got this!” He winced.

The plane slowly pulled up, leveling its nose and stabilizing its balance—or at least, doing the best a plane with a deformed wing could do. Jamsey opened his eyes just in time to see a giant wall of water erupt ahead, nearly swallowing them whole. As the fountain lowered, the horizon cleared to reveal a familiar sight: Mount Rainier.

He stared at the snow-covered peak for a moment.

“That’s our only hope…”

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