You wake up into the new world, a restart after the end of civilization. You don't know how long it's been since you were put into a cryo sleeping pod. It could be years, decades.
You notice a few other people around you also coming to, some confused and some still asleep. Suddenly you hear waves crashing against the walls. Water is rushing into the room.
"GET OUT! HURRY!!"
Several people rush towards the exit only to be met with by an endless sea in a thunderstorm. The room of cryo pods is about to sink. Someone shoves you into a lifeboat.
It's pure chaos from here on out. Welcome... To the New World.
I don't remember much of anything, besides the tightness in my chest. I look around the life boat, looking at the terrified strangers, and the rushing waves knocking us too and fro. N-North! Turn North! I roar, suddenly remembering we were sent to South America, though why we were on a boat, or why we were frozen, I can't remember. I look at the night sky, as the storm rages, looking for any signs of the stars above, knowing I seem to have a role in saving myself and these people.
The man at the helm turns to you. "You've got some sort of compass or star-chart, son?" He asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm and fear. The waves grow higher and higher as the boat is tossed about like a cork in a bathtub. The others in the life boat look at each other nervously, not sure what to do.
"Just... North." I mutter, squinting up at the stars. "But we need to get there fast..." There! I shout pointing starboard, the dark clouds breaking for a moment. I don't know what stars I see, but if we sail against the storm, we'll see the sun rise sooner than later. Goddamn it, just turn! I roar, pushing the man to the side, where a woman that must be his wife clings to him We'll live, I promise! I shout above the noise of the storm, as turn the boat against the violent wind. I notice a few nearby life boats are following us, as the others get lost in the violent waves of the ocean.
The man at the helm glares at you hatefully, but reluctantly turns the wheel to match your direction. You can feel the tension in the air as the other people on the boat eye you warily. The storm continues to rage around you and soon the sun begins to rise above the horizon, casting a bloody glow over the dark ocean. The view is eerie but provides some relief from the darkness of night.
As you sail northward, you notice other survivors clinging to debris in the distance.
Damn it... I growl, looking at the breaking morning, the sun about where I expected. We should be just South of Brazil... Right? We can't be far off anyway. I say softer, even as the storm rages behind us, and we can see the wreckage of another life boat around us. Look... If I'm right, our rations will be plenty to get us to land. Even if we help those folk, so long as we sail against the sun's arch we'll hit land in a couple of days. I say looking at the couples, the blue haired young woman at the bow of the boat, and then the older fellow manning the stern
The blue haired young woman at the bow of the boat shrugs helplessly before looking to the older man at the stern. He nods slowly and then turns to address the group. "Alright, we'll follow Cyron's lead. But if anyone objects or thinks they can do better, speak up now." His voice is firm but fair as he surveys the group.
The other survivors look at each other warily before finally nodding in agreement. The older man continues, "
"Alright then, Cyron's the captain for now," he says with a nod. "Cyron, lead on and we'll follow." The wind howls and the ocean churns as you continue northward, guiding your small band of survivors through the treacherous waters. Days pass with little rest or respite, but at least you all have food and water to sustain you for now.
A couple of days... I growl, standing against the bow of the boat, looking off into the distance. The waves are against us, but we'll make it... I say softly more to myself than anyone else. I look down at the blue haired woman next to me, as she looks up at me. She's stayed in place for two days, when not relieving herself, like the rest of us, into the ocean. Tomorrow morning, we'll see the island. Then the hard part really begins... I say softly again more to myself, though the blue haired girl nods, as if she understands what lays ahead of us.
The blue haired woman nods solemnly in agreement, her eyes never leaving yours. She takes your hand reassuringly and gives it a squeeze before letting go, trusting that you'll lead them safely to shore. As the wind howls and the waves crash against the hull of the boat, the other survivors huddle together for warmth and comfort, their eyes fixed on you as if you hold the key to their salvation.