Aiden and Ethan followed Max, their guide, through the ruined streets, each step costing them a superhuman effort. Pain throbbed in their sore muscles, but the relief of having escaped a fatal fate gave them the strength to continue.
As they progressed, Aiden observed their guide from the corner of his eye. Max was a man in his fifties, his face weathered by trials but with a sharp and keen gaze. He moved with the quiet assurance of one who has survived worse, his eyes constantly moving, scanning the shadows for potential dangers.
"Not much further," he called over his shoulder. "Our shelter is in the old school, two streets from here."
Ethan nodded, too exhausted to respond. Aiden, on the other hand, felt curiosity overtaking him despite the fatigue.
"Your group, is it large?" he asked, hoping to learn more about their mysterious saviors.
Max gave him a sidelong glance, seeming to gauge whether he could trust him. Finally, he shrugged.
"About twenty, counting you two," he replied. "We have elders, children, a few guys like me who know how to fight. We stick together, we help each other out. That's how we've held on so far."
Aiden nodded, impressed. In this hostile world, the survival of such a diverse group was a feat.
"Ah, here we are," Max suddenly announced.
After what seemed like an eternity, they finally arrived at their destination. It was a large building that must have been a school before the apocalypse. Now, it was transformed into a makeshift shelter, surrounded by barricades made of abandoned cars, broken furniture, and various debris.
At the entrance, two sentries stood guard, armed with rusty shotguns. They were men of a certain age, their faces marked by fatigue and hardship. They let them in after a brief exchange with their guide.
They let them enter after a brief exchange with Max, not without casting suspicious glances at the two newcomers. Aiden couldn't blame them. Trust was a luxury few could afford these days.
Inside, about twenty people were busy with various tasks. Some were sorting supplies, others repairing equipment or taking care of the younger ones. It was a tight-knit community, where everyone seemed to have a role to play.
Max led them to a room that obviously served as a makeshift infirmary. Makeshift shelves were overflowing with salvaged bandages and half-faded label bottles. In the center was an examination table made of two school desks pushed together.
There, a man in his fifties greeted them with a tired but warm smile. He wore a faded white coat, obviously salvaged from another life.
"Max," he greeted their guide before turning to them. "And here are our two miracle survivors. Welcome to us. I'm Dr. Evans, well, that's what they call me here. But I'm just a former nurse doing my best."
He invited Aiden and Ethan to sit with a gesture, before beginning to examine their injuries with gentle but assured movements. As he cleaned the wounds and applied clean bandages, he explained a bit about how the shelter worked.
"As you've seen, we're a small group but we stick together," he said as he worked. "Everyone contributes as they can. The older ones keep watch or take care of the housekeeping, the younger ones help with daily chores. We may not have great powers, but we've learned to survive by relying on each other."
As he spoke, Dr. Evans used a strange glow emanating from his hands to accelerate the healing of their wounds. It was subtle, but Aiden could feel the pain receding, the tissues regenerating faster. It was a discreet but incredibly useful power.
Once their treatment was finished, Max led them to the common room where a hot meal awaited them. The room, which must have been a cafeteria in another life, was lit by candles placed on the tables. Electricity seemed to be a luxury reserved for essential needs.
The meal was simple, a vegetable soup garnished with a few pieces of dried meat, but for Aiden and Ethan, it was a feast. They ate greedily, savoring every bite as if it was their last. Around them, conversations were in full swing, everyone seeming to enjoy this moment of respite in a difficult day.
During the meal, they met some other members of the community. Maria, a grandmother with a face as wrinkled as an apple but with a bright smile, was in charge of the kitchen. She served them several times, ignoring their protests with an affectionate gesture.
"You need to regain your strength," she insisted. "And here, we take care of each other."
After the meal, Max showed them where they could sleep: a small room with two cots, simple but clean. For the first time in days, Aiden felt safe, almost at home.
As they prepared to go to bed, Ethan turned to him, a tired but sincere smile on his face.
"We were lucky to run into them," he said softly. "I don't know how long we would have lasted, alone out there."
Aiden nodded, a lump in his throat. Emotion overwhelmed him. Since the beginning of this nightmare, he had been constantly on his guard, fighting for his survival, afraid to trust anyone. But here, surrounded by these ordinary but extraordinary people, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders.
"Yes," he murmured. "We found a refuge. A place to regain our strength before continuing on our way."
"I'm glad to see that there are still such benevolent people," Ethan added with great sincerity.
"Yes, me too. I think we could settle here for a while to help them, by joining the combat group. It will allow us to improve, but also to bring them provisions, equipment, or anything that could be useful to them," said Aiden.
He was really touched by Max's selfless gesture, and that of the whole community, and really wanted to help them.
"I agree. We'll talk to Max tomorrow, I'm sure he'll be thrilled."
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Now that Aiden and Ethan have finally found a home, will they finally have a few days' respite?