The cold was a constant reminder of the world's indifference—a truth I had long accepted. As I approached the unconscious figure of a young girl in the snow, I shook her lightly. Her eyes fluttered open, wide with fear, but she shivered more from the merciless chill than my presence.
"Hello?" My voice cut through the icy air, perhaps too sharply.
"H-Hi," she stammered, her breath forming fleeting clouds in the frigid space between us.
She blushed slightly, a reaction I noticed but ignored. Attraction seemed so trivial in a world where survival was all-consuming.
"You don't have a home to reside in, do you?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"No, I don't," she admitted, her voice trembling. "But... do you?"
I paused for a moment, studying her fragile form. "I do. It's a cave decently far from here, but it's doable. Are you able to walk?"
She nodded hesitantly and attempted a step, but her body betrayed her. She crumpled to the ground almost immediately. With a sigh, I walked over and hoisted her onto my back.
"Try not to fall again," I muttered, half-sarcastic, half-annoyed. "I won't carry you a second time."
The journey back was grueling, each step a battle against the uneven snow and the relentless wind. The terrain felt alive, determined to resist our progress. Eventually, I set her down on a flat patch near the cave entrance. She adjusted herself awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable in the silence.
"What leg is it?" I asked, breaking the quiet.
"W-What?"
I rolled my eyes. "Your leg. You lost balance when you tried to walk. The lack of support suggests the injury's in the leg you led with—likely the left. Am I right?"
She blinked at me, astonished by my precision, then raised her left leg. "It's the left one."
I retrieved a small jar of ointment from my pack, applied it carefully, then wrapped her leg with gauze. She watched me closely.
"You made this yourself?" she asked, her tone almost reverent.
"Who else would've?" I replied curtly, standing to my full height. "What's your name?"
"Sage," she said softly. "Yours?"
"V." I handed her a small piece of cooked fish. "Nice to meet you."
Her fingers lingered on the food, but she didn't eat. Instead, her gaze wandered, taking in the meager supplies I had painstakingly gathered over the past year. She finally spoke.
"How did this full-of-life world turn into this... tundra?"
I exhaled deeply. "War. A global one. Nuclear strikes, week after week, until the skies darkened with gas clouds, blotting out the sun. The radiation did the rest. I estimate 97, maybe 98 percent of the population is gone."
"98 percent..." she echoed, her voice trembling.
Her expression shifted to awe as she noticed the makeshift appliances—the stove, the countertops. Her eyes asked questions her mouth didn't.
"You heal fast," I noted, trying to steer the conversation back.
"Yeah, I guess I do," she replied.
"You don't remember much of the past year, do you?"
She shook her head. "No... not really."
Silence enveloped us again. It wasn't an uncomfortable one, but it carried weight. Eventually, she broke it.
"You've made all this in a year?"
"Who else would've?" I replied, realizing too late that I'd repeated myself. She smiled faintly.
"You've said that twice now."
"Guess I got it from an old friend," I admitted, a faint trace of nostalgia creeping into my voice. "He used to say it a lot. It stuck."
"Is he still alive?"
I hesitated. "Honestly, I don't know. I doubt it."
Her untouched fish caught my attention. I took it from her and wrapped it in foil, placing it aside. "If you get hungry, let me know. There's enough for both of us."
She nodded, and the silence grew again. This time, it was heavier.
"What do you plan on doing?" she asked suddenly.
"What do you mean?" I replied, unsure of her intent.
"I mean, what's your goal in this 'world'? Just survive as long as possible?"
I walked to the cave entrance, staring out at the bleak expanse. The icy wind kissed my face, a cruel reminder of the life we now endured.
"My goal is to build a better world. One without the wars and greed that led to this apocalypse. But whether that's possible... I don't know."
The darkness crept in outside, and I led Sage deeper into the cave, revealing the simple bedroom I'd crafted. Two beds waited, one for each of us.
"You can take the one on the right," I said.
As I settled into my bed, exhaustion claimed me quickly. But sleep was no reprieve. Dreams of the past haunted me—faces I couldn't save, destruction I couldn't stop. I woke abruptly, breathless, my chest heaving in the dim light. Sage was gone.
Morning arrived slowly, the pale light filtering weakly into the cave. After frying the fish she hadn't eaten, I noticed footprints outside. My instincts sharpened instantly. Grabbing my knife, I stepped out into the frost and spotted a figure—a tall, lanky form cloaked in shadow. White skin and long black hair marked it as something unnatural.
I moved to attack silently, but it evaded with inhuman speed, retaliating with a devastating blow that I barely blocked. It struck again and again, unrelenting, its movements almost fluid. I staggered but managed to catch its next punch, forcing it into a stalemate. My strength surged, and I headbutted the creature, cracking its skull. Blood oozed from the wound, but it fought harder.
Dodging its next strike, I countered with a kick, sending it sprawling. My vision darkened as my eyes turned obsidian. Gripping a massive boulder, I smashed it down onto the creature's head, over and over, until its body was unrecognizable.
I panted, my hands trembling as my vision returned to normal.
"Such a mess," I muttered, wiping the blood off my face with a sigh.
Inside the cave, I retrieved a vial and collected the creature's blood. The kill wasn't for survival—it was research, a faint hope for answers in a world devoid of meaning.
And then I saw her.
Sage stood at the cave entrance, her eyes flicking between me and the corpse. She stepped forward, her lips parting as if to speak, but her body failed her. She collapsed into the snow, unconscious.
I stared down at her fragile form and sighed. Survival in this frozen wasteland wasn't kind to anyone, but it seemed fate had chosen to test me most of all.
N: The pain was sharp, blinding, and all-consuming. Flickers of light and sound swirled around me, fragmented and incomprehensible. I tried to move, but my body wouldn't respond. Then, slowly, the world began to come into focus.
Zane: "Oh, you're finally awake."
N: His voice pulled me back to reality. I blinked, disoriented, realizing I was back in the cave.
Sage: "Where…?"
Zane: "You fainted outside. Blood got to you, huh?"
N: I shook my head, sitting up slowly.
Sage: "No, it's not that. It… made me remember something."
N: For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his expression—curiosity, maybe—but he didn't ask. Instead, he shifted gears, as if avoiding the weight of my words.
I watched her closely as I spoke, gauging her reaction. There was something in the way she hesitated when she answered, something guarded.
"You're not familiar with this terrain, are you?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral.
"What do you mean?" she replied, her voice steady but distant.
"Well," I said, leaning back against the cold stone wall, "you disappeared this morning. Thought maybe you'd decided to explore."
She hesitated again. "Oh… yeah. I was."
That pitch in her voice, a subtle waver—I caught it. It told me more than her words did.
"Where are you from, if not around here?" I pressed.
"I… I don't remember."
There it was again, that shift. The way her voice dropped when she said those words—it wasn't just forgetfulness. It was something deeper.
"Don't worry about it," I said, brushing it off. "You'll remember when the time's right."
I didn't push further. People like her—fragile, uncertain—they break under too much weight. It was better to let her unfold on her own.
As I packed supplies into the duffel bags, her eyes followed me, her curiosity breaking through the awkward silence.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Leaving," I said simply.
She frowned. "Why?"
"You saw that thing outside, didn't you?"
"The… figure? Yeah, what about it?"
"That thing is called a Weapon," I explained, my hands moving efficiently as I packed. "They're enhanced humans. Stronger, faster, smarter than the rest of us. Humanity's attempt at playing god, and like everything else, it went sideways."
Her brow furrowed. "Why are they after you?"
I stopped, meeting her gaze. "How am I supposed to know?"
The truth? I had a few ideas, none of them good. But she didn't need to know that—not yet.
I tossed a bag at her, watching as she caught it effortlessly. Her reflexes were sharp, sharper than most.
"Here, catch," I said, slinging my own bag over my shoulder. "We're heading out."
The cold hit us the moment we stepped outside. The wind bit at my face, but I ignored it, focusing on the path ahead.
"Where are we going?" she asked, falling into step behind me.
"You sure ask a lot of questions," I said, smirking slightly. "If you don't trust me, you're free to head off on your own. You're not my prisoner."
Her eyes narrowed. "Well, like I've said before, I don't know this terrain, but you do. So, I'll ask again—where are we going?"
I sighed, the smirk slipping from my face. "Somewhere far from here."
And with that, we walked.
The snow stretched endlessly around us, an ocean of white and gray. Each step was heavier than the last, the weight of the duffel bag pressing into my shoulders.
"How long until we get there?" she asked, her voice cutting through the silence.
"You're impatient, aren't you?" I said, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye.
"You've noticed," she muttered, rolling her eyes.
"It's not far," I said. "We'll be there soon enough."
"Whatever," she muttered, irritation coloring her tone.
Then, I felt it—a shift in the air, subtle but unmistakable. My body moved on instinct.
In a blur, I turned and struck, my fist colliding with the head of the figure sneaking up behind her. Its head separated from its body in a single blow, landing in the snow with a dull thud.
"You alright?" I asked, turning to Sage.
She nodded, her wide eyes still fixed on the lifeless body. "Was that… a Weapon?"
I knelt, rolling the body onto its side to examine its left arm. The symbol was there—two interlocked lowercase S's.
"Yeah," I said grimly. "And a weak one at that. But the fact that it's here alone… that's odd."
"Why's that?"
"They usually travel in pairs," I explained, standing. "If this one's alone, it means one of two things. Either it was separated, or…"
"Or what?"
"Or we've got two pairs coming after us now."
Her expression tightened. "So what do we do?"
I glanced at her, then back at the endless expanse of snow.
"The only thing we can do," I said, hoisting the bag higher on my shoulder.
Hours later, the outline of a city rose in the distance, cutting through the bleakness of the horizon.
"This is it?" Sage asked, her voice a mix of awe and suspicion.
I didn't answer immediately, my eyes locked on the towering structures. A city meant safety, resources, and maybe even answers. But it also meant danger—more people, more risks.
"Yeah," I said finally, my voice low. "This is it."
The city loomed closer with each step, its jagged skyline stark against the pale gray sky. From a distance, it looked lifeless, but I knew better. A place like this wouldn't be standing if it were truly abandoned.
As we approached, Sage fell quiet. Her usual stream of questions had dried up, replaced by a tension that hung between us. I could feel her unease as much as my own. The silence wasn't comforting—it was charged, like the air before a storm.
"We'll enter through the outer gates," I said, breaking the quiet. "Keep close and don't draw attention."
"Why? What's in there?" she asked, her voice low but steady.
"Survivors," I replied. "And not the good kind. People here don't trust strangers, and they won't hesitate to take what they want."
She frowned. "Then why are we going in?"
I stopped walking and turned to face her. "Because we need supplies. Food, fuel, maybe information. And this is the best chance we've got."
She nodded, but the hesitation was still there, clear in her eyes.
The gates were rusted but sturdy, their iron bars streaked with grime and ice. A makeshift guard post stood nearby, manned by two figures wrapped in heavy coats, their faces obscured by scarves. One of them raised a hand as we approached, signaling us to stop.
"State your business," the guard barked, his voice muffled by the fabric covering his mouth.
"We're passing through," I said, keeping my tone calm but firm. "Just looking to trade."
The second guard stepped forward, his rifle slung casually over his shoulder. "What've you got?"
"Food, tools," I said, gesturing to the bag on my back. "Enough to make it worth your while."
The two guards exchanged a glance, then nodded. "Fine. But no trouble. And don't overstay your welcome."
The city was a patchwork of decay and survival. Crumbling buildings stood alongside makeshift shelters, their walls patched with scrap metal and tarps. Smoke rose from scattered fires, and the air was thick with the scent of burning wood and something else—something acrid and chemical.
Sage stayed close, her eyes darting from one shadowed alley to the next. I didn't blame her. The place felt alive in the worst way, every corner hiding a potential threat.
"Stay alert," I muttered, glancing back at her. "Places like this have their own rules, and outsiders don't usually get a free pass."
"Got it," she said, her voice tight.
We found a market near the city's center, a chaotic sprawl of stalls and traders hawking everything from scavenged electronics to questionable food. I scanned the crowd, my gaze lingering on anyone who looked too interested in us.
"What are we looking for?" Sage asked, her voice low.
"Fuel and ammo," I said. "And if we're lucky, a map."
"A map?"
"This city isn't our destination," I explained. "It's a stop. We need to know what's beyond it."
As we moved through the market, a man at one of the stalls called out to us. "You two look like you could use something special."
I stopped, eyeing him warily. He was tall and wiry, his face weathered and sharp.
"What are you selling?" I asked.
"Depends on what you're buying," he said with a sly grin. "Information, maybe. Or something more tangible."
I stepped closer, keeping Sage behind me. "What kind of information?"
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Word is, there's a convoy heading out of the city tomorrow. Big operation. They're looking for volunteers."
"Volunteers for what?"
"Protection," he said. "They're transporting something valuable, but they're keeping it quiet. Could be a chance to hitch a ride out of here—or make some serious trades."
I considered his words, weighing the risk. A convoy meant movement, which could get us farther than walking. But it also meant danger—Weapons weren't the only threats in this world.
"Thanks for the tip," I said, slipping him a small ration as payment.
As we walked away, Sage tugged at my sleeve. "What do you think?"
"I think we need to find out more before we decide," I said.
By nightfall, we'd found a place to rest—an abandoned building on the outskirts of the market. It wasn't much, but it was sheltered, and the walls were thick enough to muffle the wind.
Sage sat by the window, staring out at the city. "Do you think we'll ever find a place that feels… safe?"
I didn't answer immediately. Safe wasn't a word I believed in anymore.
"Safety's an illusion," I said finally. "You don't survive by being safe. You survive by being prepared."
She turned to look at me, her expression unreadable. "And you're always prepared, aren't you?"
I met her gaze, the weight of her question hanging between us. "I have to be."
And with that, the silence returned, heavier than before.