I woke up to a pale sun filtering through the dense haze of dust that hovered in the sky. My thin blanket wasn't warm enough against the chill that whispered across the badlands. I sat up, blinking away the remnants of sleep, trying to shake off the dark memories of the night before—the raid, the screaming, my dad's face contorted in despair fading into nothingness. But the pain was a dull thrum now, a constant reminder anchoring me to reality. Dismissing the ache in my chest, I wrapped my arms around my knees and surveyed the remnants of the world around me. Scavenging wasn't just a necessity—it was my sole occupation now. I had to move. Rolling to my feet, I scanned the landscape, empty but for a scattering of rusted metal and desolate ash. The badlands were a graveyard of civilization, a patchwork quilt of destruction sewn from the bones of tall buildings and the remains of forgotten dreams. I hadn't even begun to explore this wasteland, and already, a knot of anxiety coiled tight in my stomach. Time to find something useful. With my fingers pressed against frigid air, I ducked and wound my way through the twisted debris of yesterday's life. Sharp shards of glass shimmered in the muted sunlight, remnants of cars carelessly strewn aside like discarded toys. My hands brushed against the crumbling bricks of a wall, and something glinted near the base. My heart quickened. I crawled forward as if drawn by an invisible string, revealing a dented toolbox buried beneath the rubble. With each swing of the crowbar I found nearby, the metal protested, letting loose a cloud of dust as I pried it free from its imprisonment. Inside, decades of neglect remained—a rusted wrench, a few screws, lengths of wire, and even an old circuit board. My heart raced at the sight of the tools. My father would've loved this. They weren't just metal; they were instruments of creation, fragments of a forgotten age. I felt a need to salvage the past, to create something from nothing, just like he had taught me. But first, I needed to eat. Traps. I remembered the basic designs I'd seen in his notes. I rummaged through the tools as my mind raced with possibilities—each item chosen would affect the next. I set to work, piecing together a simple mechanism using the wire and metal scraps. The sun hung high, its glare digging into the back of my neck while I focused intensely. Hours passed—a blur of movement and sweat—until I stood back to survey my creation. It was crude but functional: a snare trap. I could use it to catch something small—a rat, perhaps, maybe even a bird. My stomach growled in agreement as I gathered the courage to venture further, looking for a place to lay the trap. Moving through the debris, I scoured the twisted remains of an old warehouse when I heard a low growl echo from the shadows. My heart sank. I dropped back, barely breathing. What now? Before I could think, something lunged from the depths of darkness. A creature, monstrous in form—half-man, half-beast—blurred into motion. Its skin was mottled and scarred, hair matted in thick gobs of filth. Jax, I remembered the locals whispering, a remnant of the infection, sadly twisted into something barely human. Instinct kicked in. I dashed back toward the warehouse, desperate not to think of what might happen if it caught me. I knocked over a rusted barrel in my frantic escape, creating a noise that echoed through the chaos. My foot caught on a tangled mess of something, either wire or roots, and I went down sharply, the impact thrumming through my bones. I gasped, scraped my palms against the unforgiving ground, and willed myself up. But before I could scramble to my feet, something else shifted behind me. A girl, wiry and quick, bounded towards me, a smirk painted across her face. "Over here!" She pulled me to my feet, yanking me into the shadows just as Jax lurched past, mouth agape. "You can't just stand there like a deer in headlights," she chided, her tone both teasing and mildly annoyed. "They're attracted to noise. Move!" We ducked into a narrow crack between the warehouse and an adjoining building, where sunlight barely cut through the remnants of collapsed walls. I watched her, heart pounding—not just from the fear, but from the lively spark in her eyes, a stark contrast to the blind terror that clouded mine. "Who are you?" I managed to gasp, the adrenaline still racing through my veins. "Sophie." She flashed a grin that was more cheeky than comforting. "And you're Eli, right? Heard you got dumped here like yesterday's trash." Her tone was playful, but the words stung, cutting through the fog of my overwhelming dread. "I…" I faltered, suddenly aware of the precariousness of my situation. "Yeah, I guess that fits." "Good—you're gonna need more than luck out here," she said. "You're not alone anymore. Let's teach you how to survive instead of just existing." With that, a tentative alliance formed in the shadows. As the sun began to sink low, casting long, ominous shadows over the wreckage, Sophie taught me the trade of scavenging. She moved effortlessly through the debris, pointing out usable items, her nimble fingers working like a magician's, producing treasure from trash. It was like watching an artist at work. "Keep quiet and watch your back," she said, her tone suddenly serious as she scanned the perimeter like a hawk. "Survival in this place is as much about avoiding trouble as it is about finding food. You look dumb enough to get eaten zipping around like a headless chicken." My chest tightened in response, guilt nearing the surface of my hollow heart. Perhaps she wasn't wrong. But she was a survivor—like me. In the vast, desolate expanse of the badlands, it finally dawned on me: I wasn't entirely alone. The shadows had begun to lift, however slightly, and I felt a flicker inside—just a hint of hope. "Alright, Sophie. Teach me," I replied, feeling the warmth of a shared purpose igniting within me, glimmers of strength against the encroaching dark. Little did I know, in this chaotic world, surviving together would test our resolve in ways I couldn't yet grasp.
