The next day, our journey pressed on. The sun was rising high as we roamed the land, searching for a way to cross the river. Miles of debris-filled roads and collapsed bridges had greeted us at every turn. Frustration simmered in the air, but we had no time to waste.
I stood by the pilot's seat, scratching my chin as I watched the endless stretch of riverbanks. "Looks like we've got no other choice," I muttered. "Deploy the floaters. Let's hover across."
The pilot nodded and flipped a few switches. A soft hum filled the Hope as the floaters extended from the undercarriage and activated. The children rushed to the windows, their eyes wide with excitement as the massive vehicle began to rise, hovering just above the ground. Slowly, we glided over the river, the water beneath us churning as we made our way to the other side.
"Hey," I called out, smirking, "think there's another bear lurking around here? Or maybe a giant crocodile this time?"
Juan chuckled from his station. "Nope. Scanners are clear. Audrey and I made some upgrades, remember? We've got heat sensors now. No surprises, at least from anything with warm blood."
"What's this, you've done it already? Good work," I said with a nod. "Fast learners. I like that."
Audrey grinned, adjusting her glasses. "Well, after that bear incident, we figured we'd better be ready for anything. Can't afford another close call."
Once we reached the opposite shore, the floaters retracted automatically, stowing themselves beneath the vehicle with the same quiet efficiency. With that, we pushed forward again, the Hope rolling inland.
Two days later, we stopped by a thick forest. Supplies were running low, so it was time for a hunt. Juan and Gareth, along with a few of the older kids, ventured out with their gear, determined to bring back dinner. They returned hours later, loaded with small game—rabbits, wild fowl, and even a boar. Everything tested negative for radiation, much to everyone's relief.
Juan reported in as we gathered around the campfire. "All clear, Old Man. Food's safe."
I clapped him on the shoulder, a proud grin stretching across my face. "Great job, kid. You and the team really outdid yourselves. Guess I'll be cooking up a feast tonight."
The smell of roasted meat soon filled the air, and for the first time in a while, everyone gathered around, their laughter mingling with the crackling of the fire. The children ate heartily, their faces bright and happy in the glow of the flames. For a moment, it almost felt like we were normal again, not survivors drifting through the wasteland.
Later that night, once the kids were sound asleep, I retreated to my little workshop inside the Hope. The cluttered space was a mess of tools, parts, and half-finished gadgets, but it was my sanctuary. Sitting at the workbench, I tinkered with Roy, my trusty robot sidekick. The little guy had taken a beating over the years, but with some love and care, I knew he'd be back in top shape.
I was elbow-deep in Roy's wiring when Gareth appeared, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. He placed it on the bench beside me, pulling up a chair. "Thought you could use this."
I nodded in appreciation, wiping some oil from my hands. "Thanks. Couldn't sleep?"
Gareth shrugged. "Not really. Too much on my mind."
I took a sip of the coffee, savoring its warmth. "Yeah, I hear you. Feels like we're always two steps ahead of disaster, doesn't it?"
"More like one step," Gareth replied with a dry chuckle. "But hey, at least we've got you to keep us out of real trouble."
I smiled, shaking my head. "I'm just an old man with too much experience and too many scars. But as long as this team sticks together, we'll make it. One way or another."
Gareth nodded, then sat in companionable silence as I returned to my work. The soft hum of the Hope in the background and the quiet rhythm of tinkering filled the room, as outside, the darkened wasteland stretched endlessly beneath the stars.
Gareth leaned against the chair, rubbing his temples as he stared at the empty cup in his hands. At 42, he still looked strong, though the years had clearly taken their toll. His weathered face bore the same deep lines of worry and survival that marked us all. A veteran of the same nuclear war that had ravaged the world, Gareth had once been a student, working toward his doctoral degree, before everything fell apart. Funny enough, he used to be my research assistant back in the day—when the only explosions we worried about were inside the lab.
Now, here we were, more than a decade apart in age, yet bound by fate and survival. Best friends, if you could still call it that in a world like this.
"Goldwin," Gareth finally spoke, breaking the silence, "I keep wondering… how long can we keep this up?"
I raised an eyebrow. "You mean the scavenging? We've been through worse."
He shook his head, his expression serious. "No, I mean all of it. Resources are getting scarcer every day. We're barely scraping by. Edible meat is harder to find, water needs purifying before we can drink it, and some days we go without food entirely."
I leaned back in my chair, nodding slowly. "I know. But it's not us I'm worried about."
"Exactly," Gareth said, his voice quiet. "It's the kids. The young ones. They rely on us to keep them safe, to keep them fed. I don't want to let them down."
He was right, of course. As much as we could handle the harshness of the world, it was the next generation—the ones we were trying so desperately to protect—that weighed on us. They were resilient, smart, quick to adapt. But they were still children.
Gareth's eyes drifted to my shoulder, where the bear had left its mark. "How's the wound?"
"Just a flesh wound," I shrugged, grinning. "Nothing to lose sleep over."
Gareth wasn't buying it. "Goldwin, you've got to be more honest with yourself. If something happened to you—if you died—who'd take care of the kids?"
I couldn't help but cackle at that. "These kids would survive just fine without me. They're tough. They've learned more in a few years than I did in a lifetime."
Gareth chuckled, but his eyes were serious. "Maybe so, but you need to think about their feelings too. They look up to you. If you go down, they'll lose more than a leader."
I rubbed the back of my neck, mulling that over. He had a point, and it wasn't lost on me how fragile our situation was. But before I could reply, the quiet was broken by the sound of footsteps, followed by two familiar faces poking around the corner.
Alan and Phoebe, still wide awake despite the late hour, peeked into my workshop with sheepish grins.
"We, uh… need help with our math," Alan said, scratching his head. "Audrey's gonna be mad if we don't get it done."
Gareth and I exchanged a glance before bursting into laughter. "Well, we can't have Audrey mad at you, can we?" I said, pushing my chair back. "Alright, let's see what you've got."
The two kids scampered over to the table, laying out their assignments in front of us. Together, Gareth and I guided them through the problems, showing them how to work through the numbers. It was a small, quiet moment in the grand scheme of things, but in that moment, it was everything.
Once we saw the kids off to bed, Gareth and I went to the kitchen. The weight of our earlier conversation hung in the air as I poured myself another cup of coffee.
"They're fast learners," I said after a while, staring into the dark liquid. "They could probably operate the Hope without me."
Gareth nodded. "They've got good instincts. We've taught them well."
I sighed, setting the cup down. "I'm not going to be around forever, Gareth. I'm already an old man. One of these days, death's gonna come knocking, and when that happens, you'll need to take the lead."
Gareth blinked, taken aback. "What?"
"And if you go down," I continued, as if I hadn't just dropped a bombshell, "then Juan takes over. The kids will follow him. He's got the heart of a leader."
Gareth leaned back in his chair, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Ominous much? You're not planning on dying anytime soon, are you?"
I chuckled softly. "Nah. But it's better to be prepared. The world's not going to give us a warning."
He nodded, the gravity of my words sinking in, though he tried to shake it off with humor. "Well, just don't go leaving us in the middle of a firefight, alright? I don't think I'm ready to be the new 'old man' just yet."
I laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. At least, not until I finish rebuilding Roy."