The blood-red setting sun painted the crumbling ruins of the desolate town in an eerie shade of orange-red.
Josie Quinn and Cole walked side-by-side down the pockmarked street, their feet occasionally kicking up fractured bricks or the bones of some unknown animal.
The so-called "black market" was merely a spontaneous gathering spot centered around a few relatively intact buildings. Figures milled about, yet everyone carried the wariness and detachment unique to the apocalypse.
They stopped and started, their gazes pretending to sweep casually over the trading spots, some out in the open, others tucked away in the shadows.
Josie Quinn noticed the variety of goods in circulation: mud-caked cans, rust-spotted weapon parts, suspiciously colored jerky, and even a few wilted, mutated plants carefully displayed on a tattered cloth.
