The air was thick with the acrid scent of cordite and the metallic tang of blood. The once-tranquil forest echoed with the haunting silence that followed a brutal confrontation. I stood amidst a tableau of carnage, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The Salt Lake crew, a once-formidable force, lay scattered across the forest floor, their lifeless forms a stark testament to the violence that had transpired.

Manny, Owen, Mel, Jordan, Nora, Nick, and Leah – all of them had met their end at my hands. Each encounter had been a brutal dance of death, a desperate struggle for survival in a world gone mad. The echoes of their screams still rang in my ears, a haunting reminder of the choices I had been forced to make.

But the most harrowing encounter was yet to come. Abby, the woman who had orchestrated the massacre of my companions, stood before me, her eyes filled with a burning intensity. She was a shell of her former self, her body ravaged by the brutal fight that had just concluded. Blood stained her clothes, and her face was marred by cuts and bruises.

Despite her injuries, she managed to raise her weapon, its cold metal pressing against my temple. *"I gave you a chance," she hissed, her voice barely a whisper. "A chance to walk away. But you...you killed my friends. I was going to let you go. You had your chance, and you wasted it!."

Her words were a damning indictment, a reminder of the irreversible damage I had caused. I could feel the cold metal of the gun against my skin, a tangible reminder of my impending doom.