The morning air was sharp and cold as we stood at the edge of Terminus. The faint hum of the city's generators was barely audible over the wind that swept across the broken streets. Beyond the crumbling outskirts lay the Wasteland, its expanse stretching out like an endless sea of ash and ruins.
Daya leaned heavily on Cato, her movements stiff but determined. Her face was still pale, but her eyes had regained some of their fire.
"You sure about this?" I asked, adjusting the strap of the pack slung over my shoulder. "We can wait another day if you need it."
Daya shook her head. "I'll manage. The sooner we get to Ra, the better."
Cato glanced at her, then at me. "We've wasted enough time already."
I didn't argue. He wasn't wrong. Every day spent in the open was a gamble.
With one last glance at Terminus, I led the way out into the Wasteland.
The first few hours were uneventful. The ground was uneven, littered with debris from a world long gone. Every so often, I'd spot the rusted skeleton of a vehicle or the crumbled remains of a building, reminders of what this place used to be.
Daya moved slowly, her steps dragging, but she didn't complain. Cato stayed close to her side, his hand never far from the hilt of the blade he carried. I kept my eyes on the horizon, scanning for movement.
Around midday, we stopped to rest. I handed Daya a piece of dried meat and a canteen of water.
"You're holding up better than I expected," I said, sitting down beside her.
She gave me a weak smile. "Thanks, I guess. I've had worse days."
Cato snorted. "You're stubborn, that's for sure."
"Look who's talking," she shot back, her voice light despite her exhaustion.
I watched the two of them, a faint smile tugging at my lips. For all the weight they carried, they still found moments like this—small, fleeting bits of normalcy.
By the time the sun began to set, we'd covered more ground than I thought we would. We found shelter in the remains of an old gas station, its walls mostly intact and its roof offering some protection from the elements.
Cato and I took turns keeping watch. The Wasteland wasn't just empty ruins—it was alive with dangers. Creatures like the one they called Red weren't the only threats out here.
When my shift came, I sat by the entrance, my knife resting in my lap. The darkness outside was absolute, the kind that made you question every shadow and every sound.
Daya stirred in her sleep, murmuring something I couldn't make out. Cato looked up from where he was sitting against the wall, his expression unreadable.
"Something on your mind?" I asked quietly.
He hesitated, then shook his head. "Just... wondering if we're making the right call."
"Going to Ra?"
"Yeah. I don't know if they'll take us in. Things were bad when we left. I don't know what it'll be like now."
"We'll deal with it when we get there," I said. "One step at a time."
He didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue.
As dawn broke, we packed up and set out again. The journey was far from over, and the Wasteland had a way of reminding you that hope was a fragile thing.
By midday, we encountered our first real challenge—a stretch of jagged terrain filled with pitfalls and narrow paths. To make matters worse, I spotted something moving in the distance, a shadow too large and too fast to be a trick of the light.
"Is that...?" Daya started, her voice tight with fear.
I didn't let her finish. "Keep moving. Slowly."
Cato's grip on his blade tightened. "If it's what I think it is, we won't outrun it."
"We won't have to," I said, scanning the area for anything we could use to our advantage. "If it gets close, we fight."
Daya looked like she wanted to protest, but she kept quiet.
The shadow drew closer, and the air grew heavy with tension. Whatever was out there, it wasn't going to let us pass without a fight.
And then, the roar of an engine split the silence.
A military truck burst over a nearby ridge, its massive wheels crushing the uneven ground beneath it. The vehicle skidded to a halt, its tires kicking up a cloud of dust.
At the wheel was a guy around our age, his face streaked with dirt but his eyes sharp and alert. He wore a military-style uniform, though it looked worn and patched, as if it had seen too many battles.
"Get in!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Cato hesitated, his body coiled like a spring. "Who the hell is that?"
"Does it matter?" I snapped, grabbing Daya's arm to steady her.
The shadow behind us loomed closer, its massive form now unmistakable against the horizon. I couldn't make out all the details, but the size and speed were enough to send a chill down my spine.
"Move!" the guy yelled again, leaning out of the truck and waving us over.
For a split second, none of us moved, caught between the danger behind us and the unknown in front of us.
Then, with a deep breath, I made the call.
"Go!"
The three of us bolted toward the truck, the sound of the shadow—a strange, almost hissing roar—growing louder behind us. The guy at the wheel threw the passenger door open, shouting, "Get in! Move it!"
Cato helped Daya climb in first, then scrambled in after her. I dove in last, barely pulling the door shut before the truck lurched forward, wheels spinning against the loose dirt.
Through the rear window, I caught a glimpse of the shadow overtaking the spot where we'd been standing seconds earlier. A thick, dark cloud billowed outward, spreading across the terrain like a living thing.
"What is that?" I gasped, turning to face the driver.
He shot me a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised as if the answer should be obvious. "That," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "is a Dust. Ever heard of it? No? Let me fill you in—it's basically airborne acid. Breathe it in, it'll sear your lungs. Let it touch your skin, and, well... let's just say you'll wish it hadn't."
Daya paled. "It burns you alive?"
"Ding ding!" he replied, a mocking grin flashing across his face. "We've got a winner!"
I scowled at him, gripping the edge of my seat as the truck jolted over a series of rocks. "And you just happened to show up right when we needed saving?"
"Call it fate," he said, throwing the truck into a sharp turn that sent us sliding in our seats. "Or maybe I was just bored and felt like playing hero today."
Cato bristled. "What's your deal?"