Crimson Winter #2
Chance’s vision blurred again, the tears blurring everything in front of him. But now, something else stirred within him—something buried deep in the pit of his soul. He couldn’t stay here. Not like this. He couldn’t keep wallowing in the grief, in the pain. Guest wouldn’t want that.
But how could he move on without him?
- “I can’t—I don’t know how to keep going without him…” Chance murmured, his voice breaking.
Shedletsky didn’t slow down, didn’t stop. His grip remained firm, unrelenting as they moved through the snow-covered woods. The air was bitter and sharp, but it didn’t matter. They had to move.
????- “You do it for him, Chance,” Shedletsky said firmly. “He wanted you alive. Now, you have to do what you’ve been trying to do all along. Survive. Fight. For him. For yourself.”
There was something in his voice that Chance couldn’t ignore, something that grounded him even as his emotions threatened to drown him. Guest had believed in him. Had wanted him to live. He had sacrificed everything for this chance, for the possibility that Chance would survive.
And if Chance was going to honor that sacrifice—he had no choice but to keep going.
The dog tag in his hand felt warm against his skin, as if it were a part of Guest still, still holding on. His hand clenched tighter around it.
- “I’ll make it count,” Chance whispered, his voice hoarse.
Shedletsky’s grip loosened, but he didn’t stop pulling Chance forward. They were moving faster now, the sounds of the wind and their footfalls muffling everything else. For the first time in what felt like forever, Chance focused on the path ahead, forcing himself to look forward.
Guest’s death would never be easy. He couldn’t erase the agony of the loss. But Chance would make sure his death was not in vain. He would survive. He would fight. For Guest. For the memory of the man who had given everything for him.
And he’d make damn sure that whatever was left of this world, this fight—it would be worth it.
He couldn’t go back.
So, for Guest—he kept running.
When they finally made it back to the cabin, the atmosphere was thick with tension and a quiet, suffocating sorrow. The warmth from the fire inside didn't do much to ease the chill in Chance’s bones, nor did it soften the hollow ache gnawing at his chest.
Shedletsky had been silent the whole way back, his hand still gripping Chance's arm, guiding him through the snow, through the forest, as if he could force him to keep moving even when everything in Chance screamed to stop.
By the time they reached the door, Chance was hardly aware of the world around him, his mind fogged with grief and shock.
His hands were still tightly clutching the dog tag, now smeared with blood, and his clothes were soaked, stiff with the crimson stains that still covered him.
Inside, the others were waiting. They had heard the crunch of boots outside, the unmistakable sound of someone dragging their feet through the snow. Elliot looked up first, his eyes scanning the group as they entered. His gaze fell on Chance, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence.
Chance’s face was a mask of sorrow. His eyes were red from crying, his entire body trembling. He was covered in blood, some of it his, most of it Guest’s. It clung to him like a second skin, an unbearable weight.
Elliot didn’t move, didn’t speak. His expression hardened as his gaze flickered to the others in the room.
They all knew. They’d heard the distant crack of gunfire hours ago, knew there was little chance that anyone could have survived.
But seeing Chance like this, broken and dripping in blood, left a knot in each of their stomachs.
007N7 was the first to break the silence, his voice rough but steady.
- "I told you," he muttered, his eyes full of quiet sadness. "I told you he was probably gone."
Chance’s shoulders jerked as he heard the words, but he didn’t look up. He didn’t have the energy to respond. He couldn’t. There was nothing left.
Shedletsky didn’t let go of him, but he didn’t pull him any further inside the room either. He simply stood there, his expression grim.
Elliot’s gaze softened a little as he watched Chance sway slightly, fighting to stay standing. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again.
"You need to sit down. You’re gonna collapse."
But Chance didn’t move, his legs shaking beneath him, his eyes distant.
He barely registered the offer of a seat, or the worried glances from the others in the room.
His mind was still trapped out there in the snow, with Guest. The lifeless body, the blood, the cold, the finality of it. He couldn’t escape it.
C00lkidd’s quiet footsteps were the next sound to break the stillness.
The ten-year-old had been asleep upstairs, but something had clearly stirred him.
He stood at the top of the stairs, looking down with wide, confused eyes, his small hands clutching the railing as he watched the grown-ups with a quiet, hesitant concern.
?- "where is..guest?"
His voice trembled, too young to understand fully, but old enough to feel the weight of the room. His gaze flickered to Chance, who was still standing in the doorway, frozen.
For a long moment, Chance didn’t respond.
C00lkidd turned away from the stairs, retreating back upstairs, not knowing how to deal with the grief in the room, too young to fully comprehend it.
Builderman, who had been leaning against the wall, suddenly straightened, his jaw tight, his expression grim.
Noob just stared at the floor, as if even looking at Chance was too much to bear.
Two Time, quiet as always, seemed to feel the heavy silence more than anyone.
The weight of the loss was palpable in the room, and there was nothing anyone could say to make it better.
Shedletsky finally released Chance, stepping away just a fraction, though still standing close by. He knew the others were watching, waiting for him to do something. But all he could do was watch Chance—watch him fall apart in front of them, unable to hold it together any longer.
Chance finally stumbled forward, his knees buckling, and he collapsed onto one of the chairs by the fire. His hands, still trembling, gripped the dog tag so tightly it hurt.
He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. What was there to say?
The others sat in a quiet, painful circle around him, each one of them silently grieving. The fire crackled in the corner, but it couldn’t erase the coldness in the room. They had all lost someone. But none of them felt the weight of it more than Chance did.
Eventually, Noob broke the silence, his voice small and fragile.
- "We’ll get through this," he murmured, though his words felt more like a plea than a promise.
Two Time said nothing. He didn’t need to.
Shedletsky, who hadn’t spoken much since they arrived, simply looked at Chance, his expression unreadable. He understood the depth of the loss, even if he didn’t know how to console him. There was no magic fix, no way to undo what had been done. All they could do now was keep moving forward.
But Chance didn’t know how to move forward. How could he? Guest had been his anchor, his one constant, and now he was gone.
He closed his eyes, the weight of his grief suffocating him.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Chance didn’t feel like a gambler. He didn’t feel like a man fighting for his life. He felt... lost. Like there was no point anymore.
But through the darkness, through the grief, there was still one thing—one person—who kept him going.
Guest had wanted him alive.
And as much as Chance wanted to break down, to give up, to just let the pain swallow him whole, he knew one thing for certain:
He had to keep going.
For Guest.
For the man who had given everything.
He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, clenching the dog tag in his palm.
And as the fire crackled in the corner, the others remained in their silence, knowing that, somehow, this moment was just the beginning of something even more difficult.