Chapter 13: The Green Lake Community
We left for Green Lake on August 21st, day six, carrying carefully selected trade goods.
The plan was simple: scout the community forming there, establish contact, maybe trade for information or supplies we couldn't get ourselves. According to my fragmentary novel knowledge, Green Lake was supposed to become a major survivor hub by week two.
But with the timeline diverged, nothing was certain anymore.
"Everyone remember the rules?" I asked as we prepared to leave.
"Don't mention the System specifics," Maya recited. "Don't reveal how much we know. Don't trust anyone completely. Trade fair but don't get cheated."
"And keep the sword covered," Lisa added, nodding at the wrapped bundle on my back. "People see a legendary weapon, they'll either want to steal it or recruit us by force."
I'd wrapped Stormbreaker in cloth and rope, disguising it as a simple bundle of supplies. The lightning effect was suppressed when not actively wielded, but the blade itself was still obviously valuable.
"Good," I said. "Let's move."
Green Lake was four miles north, closer than downtown, but still a trek through zombie territory. We moved carefully, using the routes we'd learned over the past week.
My Danger Sense skill pinged twice, warning me of threats before we saw them. We detoured both times, avoiding a Tier-2 nest in an apartment building and a pack of mutated dogs hunting in a parking lot.
The mutated dogs were new, bigger than normal, with patchy fur and red eyes like the one we'd seen on day two. My Inspect skill identified them:
[MUTATED DOG - TIER 1]
[LEVEL: 3]
[THREAT LEVEL: MODERATE]
[BEHAVIOR: Pack hunter. Attracted to blood and noise.]
"Animals are mutating faster," I noted in my mental log. "We'll need to start tracking mutation patterns."
By 10 AM, we reached the Green Lake area. The lake itself was beautiful, or had been. Now the water looked darker, almost oily. Strange plants grew along the shore, larger than normal with an unhealthy purple tint.
"Mutated vegetation," Maya observed. "Don't touch anything."
We found the survivor community on the east side of the lake, where a park building had been converted into a fortified base. Walls made of overturned cars and wooden barricades surrounded the building. Guards stood at makeshift watchtowers, real, organized guards with rifles.
"That's more organized than I expected," Lisa said quietly.
As we approached, one of the guards shouted: "Stop there! State your business!"
I raised my hands, showing we weren't armed. Well, not obviously armed. "We're survivors from Capitol Hill. Looking to trade. Maybe exchange information."
The guard studied us through binoculars. After a long moment: "Wait there."
Five minutes later, the barricade gate opened and a woman stepped out. She was in her forties, with graying hair pulled back in a braid, and she carried herself with military precision. Two armed guards flanked her.
"I'm Captain Sarah Chen," she said. No relation, I assumed, given her Asian features. "Former National Guard. I'm running security for this community. You said you want to trade?"
"That's right," I said. "We've got medical supplies, some canned food, batteries. We're looking for information more than anything. How many survivors here? What are the threats in the area? Any organized groups forming?"
Sarah evaluated us with sharp eyes. "You're well-equipped for scavengers. Most people who show up here are half-starved and desperate."
"We prepared early," Maya said simply. "We're careful."
"Clearly." Sarah gestured toward the gate. "Come inside. We'll talk. But weapons stay visible where we can see them, and no sudden moves. My people are nervous, we've had raiders twice this week."
We entered the Green Lake compound.
Inside, I counted roughly forty survivors. Families huddled together. A few looked like former military or police. Most looked scared but determined. They'd organized efficiently, designated areas for sleeping, cooking, water storage.
"Impressive," I admitted. "How long have you been building this?"
"We started organizing on day two," Sarah said. "When it became clear this wasn't a temporary crisis. We've got rules here: everyone contributes, everyone shares resources fairly, no violence against other survivors. Break the rules, you're expelled."
"Sounds reasonable," Maya said.
Sarah led us to a building that served as a trading post. Inside, a nervous-looking man in his thirties was cataloging supplies on makeshift shelves.
"This is Marcus," Sarah introduced. "He handles trades. Show him what you've got."
We laid out our trade goods: medical tape, antiseptic, three cans of food, two packs of batteries. Modest, but valuable in an apocalypse.
Marcus examined each item carefully. "This is good quality. What do you want in return?"
"Information," I said. "First question: have you encountered other organized groups?"
"Three," Marcus said, glancing at Sarah for confirmation. She nodded. "There's a group downtown led by someone calling himself the General. Military types, heavily armed, aggressive. They've been taking supplies by force. Then there's a smaller group at the university—academics and students, trying to research what caused the apocalypse. And there's rumors of a settlement in Bellevue, but we haven't confirmed it."
The General wasn't in the novel I'd read. Timeline divergence creating new players.
"Second question," Maya said. "Have you seen anyone with unusual abilities? Beyond the System basics?"
Sarah's eyes narrowed. "You know about the System."
"Everyone knows about the System by now," I said carefully. "It appeared in our vision on day one. We're asking about people with especially powerful abilities."
"There's a man who comes through every few days," Marcus said. "Calls himself Lucas. Level 7 already, which is insane. He can predict attacks before they happen—makes him nearly untouchable in a fight. He's been helping us clear nearby zombie nests."
Lucas Reed. The protagonist was here.
My heart rate spiked, but I kept my expression neutral. "Level 7? That is impressive. When was he here last?"
"Yesterday," Sarah said. "He was asking about a legendary weapon that was supposed to be downtown. Seemed upset when he got there and found it already taken."
Oh. So he knew.
"Did he say what he was going to do about it?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
"He said he'd find whoever took it and 'have a conversation,'" Sarah replied. "Sounded polite, but there was steel underneath. Lucas is nice until you cross him, from what I've seen."
This was a problem. I'd hoped Lucas wouldn't connect the missing sword to other survivors yet. Apparently, I'd hoped wrong.
"Third question," I said, moving on. "What's the zombie situation? Any patterns you've noticed?"
"They're getting smarter," Sarah said grimly. "Tier-2s especially. They're learning to open doors, coordinate simple ambushes. And yesterday, we spotted what might be a Tier-3, bigger, faster, with some kind of acidic spit. It killed two of our scouts before we drove it off."
Tier-3s already? That was ahead of schedule. The timeline divergence was accelerating everything.
We completed the trade, got some useful intel and a crude map of the area showing danger zones. In return, we gave up our trade goods. Fair exchange.
As we prepared to leave, Sarah pulled me aside.
"One more thing," she said quietly. "You're obviously capable. Your group moves like you've been training together for months, not days. And that bundle on your back, that's not supplies, is it?"
I considered lying. Decided on partial truth instead.
"It's a weapon. A good one."
"The legendary weapon Lucas is looking for?"
"Maybe."
Sarah studied me for a long moment. "Word of advice: Lucas is a good man, but he's also got a lot of power and a lot of people depending on him. If you took something he thinks he needs, he won't let it go easily."
"Noted," I said. "Thanks for the warning."
We left the Green Lake compound with more information than we'd arrived with, but also with a new problem: Lucas Reed knew someone had taken his sword, and he was looking for them.
"We need to avoid him," Lisa said once we were clear of the compound. "If he's level 7 and has precognition, we can't fight him."
"We might not have a choice," Maya said. "If he's determined to find us, he will eventually."
"Then we need to be ready to negotiate," I said. "Not fight. We took the sword fairly, got there first, killed the Boss. If he wants it back, he'll need to offer something in trade."
"You think the protagonist will negotiate?" Maya raised an eyebrow.
"I think Lucas Reed is supposed to be a good person," I said. "In the novel, he was fair, honorable, protective of innocents. If we approach him diplomatically, maybe we can work something out."
"And if we can't?"
I touched the wrapped sword on my back. "Then we've got a legendary weapon and a head start. We run, we hide, we get strong enough that he can't take it by force."
We were halfway back to Cascade View when my Danger Sense flared.
Not a warning. An alarm.
"Get down!" I shouted.
We dove behind an abandoned car just as an arrow whistled through the space where we'd been standing. It embedded in a wall, vibrating.
"Ambush!" Maya yelled, raising her bat.
From the buildings on both sides, people emerged. Ten of them, all armed. Some had bows. Some had clubs. One had a rifle.
Leading them was a man in his thirties wearing military surplus gear and a predatory smile.
"Well, well," he said. "Fresh meat. And by the look of you, you've got supplies worth taking."
The General's raiders. We'd run right into them.
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