As he walked down the city streets, he held the rusted ring in his hand, now able to look at it at his leisure. If anyone else had found the ring, they wouldn't have kept it—it had nothing good about it besides the blue gem. But it seemed the boy had other thoughts on his mind.
He stopped staring at the ring and put it in his pocket. He looked around. People were walking through the city and shopping, unafraid of zombies or anything else. It was as if a group of zombies hadn't just attacked people on the beach moments ago.
Throughout the city, there were semi-ancient and old ruins. Many were in the fields and mountains, and some were in the middle of the city. These ruins were things like statues or buildings made of mud-brick, cement, brick, and anything else. Depending on their construction, their age reached back more than a hundred years.
The teenage boy had a great interest in these old and antique things. It was clear that he wanted to go and touch them or even explore inside them. But he wasn't allowed. All of these ruins were protected by electric fences, and at least one or two officers were guarding them to keep people from getting close. Not even a country protects its ancient heritage in this way.
During these walks, the sound of gunshots would occasionally ring out from a distance. With each shot, people would sharpen their eyes and ears, and once things calmed down, they would go back to their business. It was clear they heard this sound all the time. Besides the beach, there were even watchtowers between the streets and various parts of the city. These were likely built for the people's safety, but they gave off the feeling of being trapped in a large, monitored prison.
After a lot of walking, the teenage boy finally stopped in front of a shop with an old door. A white sign above it read, "Jewelry Repair."
He went inside and looked around the shop. There were three fixed, round, red stools without backrests lined up in front of a counter with a glass partition that created a distance between the customer and the shopkeeper. Behind the counter was a foam board with various pieces of jewelry and rings made of gold, silver, bronze, platinum, or even different types of costume jewelry pinned to it. Inside the display case near the counter, you could see some of these necklaces and rings, plus several different piercings suitable for the nose, ear, lip, or even those for the nipple.
A few moments later, the teenage boy called out a name, "Mr. Badis? Hello? Are you there?"
A plump, elderly man in white suspenders came to the front of the counter and put on his glasses. "You? Didn't think I'd see you again, kid. What do you want?"
"Hi! How are you?"
The man with glasses didn't answer, just stared at him after a single blink. The teenage boy kept his smile and continued, "Uh, if it's okay, I want you to repair a..."
"No."
"Huh?"
"I said no."
"Why?"
The plump man went into the back room without a care. The boy couldn't follow him, so he just spoke loudly, "Mr. Badis! I know you're a little upset..."
"A little?"
"... Okay, really upset! But last time wasn't my fault! Mister Pedro got angry and came here himself. I even tried to stop him..."
"Look, kid," he came out of the room holding a cup of hot tea. "Pedro himself made it clear he doesn't want you associating with me." He sighed, brought the cup close to his nose, and inhaled the hot steam. "I can't do anything for you. So leave now before I have to call Pedro myself and tell him you're here."
Even though Mr. Badis was clearly rejecting him, the teenage boy was still determined to change the old man's mind. He took the ring out of his pocket and passed it to Mr. Badis through the small opening under the glass counter, the only place for exchanging things. Mr. Badis, who was still enjoying the pleasant scent of his tea and finding a moment of peace, saw the blue gem on the rusted ring and asked, "Why isn't it in a bag?"
"Huh? I didn't have time! A group of zombies just showed up."
He was just about to take his first sip of tea when he suddenly began to cough violently. Hot droplets of tea had entered his windpipe, blocking his breathing for a few moments. After he coughed several times, the teenager said, "What happened? Drink some water!"
The old man didn't take his advice, and after a few more coughs, his throat settled down. "You said zombies?! Where did you find it?"
The teenage boy hesitated for a moment. He knew he'd made a mistake, but to win Badis's favor, he had to talk about the dangers he'd faced. "From the beach, in the north of the city."
"You're telling me you went all the way to the beach? To find some old junk?" He smirked and said, "When you hang around crazy Pedro, you lose your mind too."
"I have no choice. I need to make money. To make our lives better."
"I know you said before you couldn't come to me. But if you really need money, don't hesitate. If you went all that way to the beach for a few old pieces of junk, then you can definitely work here too."
The teenage boy was silent for a moment, thinking about what he had said. He preferred life underground to being on the surface because it was safer.
"If I ever have to leave Denize, I'll definitely think about it."
The old man gave a short smile and put his cup of tea—half of which was now wasted—down on the counter. "I won't be here by then."
"You won't? Are you going somewhere?"
The old man shook his head. As if he had suddenly gotten angry, he abruptly changed the subject. "Forget it. I told you to take the ring somewhere else. I'm not doing what you want."
"Please, Mr. Badis, you're the only jewelry repairman I know! Well, I know one in Denize, but he's not nearly as good as you! You're the best at this!"
Mr. Badis, wiping the counter with a navy blue rag that had threads hanging from its edges and was stained with black and yellow marks, said, "Don't flatter me, kid. It won't do any good."
"I won't tell Mr. Pedro. I promise he'll never find out. I'll say I took it to someone else in the uptown. Mr. Badis, I was planning on giving this to… Laura."
For a few seconds, the old man stopped wiping the counter and looked at the boy's young, uncomfortable face from under his glasses. Unlike all his previous flattery, the boy was now staring at the ground, his hands clasped in front of him.
"Is Laura even worthy of it?"
The young boy's eyes widened a bit. He seemed upset by what the old man had said about Laura, but he was also surprised and asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I know that Laura is constantly getting Pedro into trouble with her temper and fights."
"You've never even been to Denize… Your son? Did he tell you all this?"
Now that his counter was as dry as new, the old man threw the rag down and plopped into his chair. He stared at the boy for a few seconds before answering, "It's true that Pedro is angry with me, but I'm his older brother. I don't want an impulsive and reckless girl like Laura to make his life difficult."
"She's not like that! She never starts fights. The kids in Denize are always picking on her."
"She's still the one who fans the flames of the fights. Am I wrong?"
The teenage boy clenched his fists. His heart beat faster, and he didn't want to accept any insults directed at Laura. So, he reached into the glass opening, took the ring, and said, "Goodbye, Mr. Badis."
"Adrian! Adrian!"
And he closed the door behind him. He started walking again.
He was a little angry, even though it felt like he knew it was a bitter truth.
In his hurried, nervous walk, he took his backpack off his shoulder and found his water bottle, but there was no water left inside. He threw the empty bottle to the side and continued on his way. However, after a little while, he turned back and picked it up from the ground.
Cars and motorcycles moved normally through the streets. You could even see cyclists occasionally. The asphalt roads seemed to be barely breathing under a layer of dust, with numerous cracks and even potholes on their surface. It was clear that this "illness" had been around for many years
The hot summer sun grew more intense as noon approached. Adrin had no water left and needed to get home quickly.
After about an hour of walking, he reached a large cave. Four male guards, all middle-aged and with automatic rifles slung over their backs, controlled the entrance and exit of people at the cave's mouth. The line wasn't long, about ten people, including men, women, and children. Each one was given permission to enter or exit by showing a small paper slip. However, with each entry or exit, one of the squares on the paper was ticked.
When it was Adrin's turn, the two guards at the cave entrance said playfully, "Look who's back! Lady Adri!" and they both chuckled softly. "What did you hunt today?"
Adrin gave an uncomfortable smile and replied, "Nothing. Honestly, a group of zombies showed up and I had to run away."
Upon hearing the word "zombies," the two men frowned slightly and said, "Zombies? They didn't follow you? Take your clothes off."
"What? I swear they didn't bite me. They were really far away."
"The last ones said the same thing. Take them off, or we won't let you in."
"But here..."
"What, are you afraid people will see your tits?!"
The two guards laughed at him again mockingly, waving their hands to urge him to take off his clothes. Adrin had no choice. He stepped out of the line and moved a little to the side. In front of the men and women who were staring at him, he took off his yellow and black checkered T-shirt, still holding it by the sleeves. His smooth, white skin had no other flaws besides a large scratch on his back. Even though it had been a year since he hit puberty, there was no hair even on his stomach.
While his T-shirt covered his forearms and he hadn't fully taken it off, he looked down in embarrassment.
The two guards weren't surprised by the sight of his body, but they did hesitate a bit when they saw the scratch on his back. "What's that wound?"
"That, that's from a year ago. See? It's not fresh."
"Alright. Take off your pants too!"
"Huh?!"
***
Finally, after ten minutes of an embarrassing public body search, Adrin was granted permission to enter the cave. However, he was told that all of his entries and exits had been used up on the paper slip and that he would need to get a new one.
He looked anxiously at the ticked-off boxes on the paper and walked down the brown-colored stairs that led to the underground city of Denize.