Before I even open my eyes, I can taste the coarse grit from the blasted street all the way from the second floor.. My body feels like it’s been run through a grinder and left to be seared. I roll onto my side andhaul myself upright. My right cheek pulses, a dull ache, but feels more like bone grinding on bone than flesh. I press a trembling hand against the exposed ridge of my cheekbone and grit my teeth. Not today, I tell myself. Not now.
I pushed off the pulverised wall behind me and peered down the alley. The sky above Za’s ruined city blocks is smoked, an iron taste hanging in the air. It is quieter than it should be. Too quiet, and a bit eerie. I swallow, and get tenser. I jam a hand into my pack, my fingers brushing the cold metal of my makeshift medkit. I know we are still safe, but not for long.
“Moving?” Jax’s voice came around the corner, quirky as ever even after the night we fought off those bloody things. His lean frame came stepping into view, one booted foot dragging an extra speck of debris, the glow from his cybernetic eye flickering like a candle-lighted streetlamp. He doesn’t look like he slept much either. Neither have I. We have all been running on fumes, but we can’t stop, can we?
“Almost,” I say, trying to keep my voice low. Our makeshift pack-carts stand ready, scavenged wheels and dented crates jammed with scavenged rations and extra power cells for Jax’s eye. We have got two tech skates between us, Lena’s custom rigs built for speed and agility, and a spare hacked together by Jax. I rubbed my fingers over the icy strap of my own skate. It still jerks when I test it. I wince, but there is no time to fix it properly. This will do.
“Arin?” I call out, searching for our newest tag along. He’s at the alley’s edge, half-crouched, watching the street like it might snap at any moment. He spots me, straightens, forces a grin. The kid’s trying. I give him that. Probably still thinks this is all some big story he’ll survive to tell. He doesn’t know yet. No one knows yet.
“Yeah, he’s good.” I mutter it more to myself than anyone else, yanking my jacket tighter. The zipper jams halfway, of course it does, and I wrestle it until it gives with a snap. One more tear and I’m screwed. It’s already cold enough to bite through my sleeves.
Lena appears at my side, I didn’t hear her footsteps. Her cybernetic limbs whirr quietly, she never wastes energy on unnecessary movement. The thigh springs in her left leg vibrate with traces of energy. I remind myself not to stare awkwardly. I should be used to it by now, that her artificial arm polished to a near mirror finish, her calf muscles replaced by reinforced pistons. She’s more machine than flesh at this point, but still breathing. Still human enough, however, to worry.
“Alright,” she says, voice calm but taut. Reminds me of a drawn bow. “Lead the way.”
My heart stutters. Lead the way? Me? Leader? Some title to hang my coat on. I glanced at the makeshift compass Jax rigged up yesterday. It’s a bent scrap of metal attached to a flickering LED, hardly scientific, but it’ll get us north toward that rumored settlement. “North, is safety”, Jax said. North is life. North is the place where the remaining of us dreams to be. A heaven of life. North is maybe a bed that doesn’t shake every time a Zom huddles outside.
I exiled the thoughts, the thoughts of resting to the back of my mind. No time. Not now. My breath feels shaky, my exhaled air against my worn scarf feels cool. I keep my eyes on the street, looking for perilous signs, ready to elude anything. Everything is gray concrete, twisted metal, and shattered glass. A hint of dying light reflected by the glass. Something sweet under the dust, maybe smoke cooked into the air. Maybe hope.
“Stay close,” I warned, shifting into a slow jog. My skate squeaks against the rubble. Jax falls in beside me, Lena on my other side, Arin trailing two steps behind. The group moves like a single entity, each of us tuned to the others’ rhythms. Resonance. Basic science. We sidestep a fallen street sign, duck under a hanging cable, scramble over a chunk of collapsed wall, all as if it were an obstacle course. My face itches where bone meets skin. I grit my teeth and try to blink it away.
“Any sign of movement?” Lena asks.
“Negative,” Jax says, but his eye is still constantly flickering, always searching like a radar. “Comms are dead. Any heat signatures would show up… wait.” He taps a wrist pad. “Faint signals… something like…uh… two clicks ahead. Could be a power source, or hostile.”
“Could be both,” Jax adds on with his dry humour. Definitely not helping.
I gulped. Two clicks could be ten steps. Could be ten hundred. Everything here is a gamble. Life is but a grand gamble scheme. But that’s why the rumor of a settlement feels like a lifeline. People don’t build communities in hell unless they mean it. Unless they are the devils, of course. Shelter, food, maybe even medicine. The sheer thought of a relaxed life made me emotional. No, don’t cry. I flexed my fingers and imagined hands that don’t tremble, faces that don’t stare at me in horror. For a moment, I almost let myself hope. Almost. But I can’t.
Arin pipes up, rare but always quick. “If it’s a settlement, what do we say? Who goes first?”
My stomach twists. Who goes first? I glance at him, see the hint of fear behind his question, the slight tremor in his words. I know, he wants to prove himself, but I don’t want to send him out front. I can’t. Still, I can’t treat him like a child. Not ever since he proved his worth back at that abandoned factory. He helped Jax jury-rig the scanners when we lost the last leads, turns out the kid’s got a knack for tech. So he stays, but behind me. I decided against speaking.
I slowed my pace and waited for them to bunch up closer. “Listen,” I say, voice lower than the wind as if whispering. “If it’s friendly, we send Lena first, shield up, and ask for supplies. If it’s hostile, we fall back on my mark. Jax, you are on overwatch with your eye. Arin, you’re with me. Behind me. Got it?”
They nod. Lena’s jaw sets, giving us a firm, confident look, Jax gives a little salute with his boot, Arin glances at me like he wants to do something, that pitiful glance, but also hopeful. I hold his gaze. “Trust me,” I whisper, while patting his shoulders.
We went on. The street opens into a broken plaza strewn with overturned market stalls and cracked statues. Quaint, but not inviting. At the far end, a faint glow. A warm yellow light spilling from a rickety archway. Not neon. Not emergency flares. Real lanterns or bulbs. Life.
My heart gave a stupid little lurch. For a second, I just stared at the light like a fool, letting myself picture walking straight into it, no weapons, no armor, no limp. Just... walking. But the moment passed, and I looked away. “Lena,” I said, voice low, almost embarrassed. “Go.”
She takes her steps, hands visible and empty. I hear the soft whine of her servo joint as she kneels to pick up a small piece of paper. She squints at it then stands, holding up a crude map, edges singed. Jax hisses quietly. He translates the scribbles, and points to a sketch of our plaza. “Map shows three safe houses inside,” he says. “And a main gate at fifty paces.”
The map shakes in Lena’s grip. I can’t tell if it’s the wind or her hand. My gut flips. Either we just found the last good place left standing… or we’re walking into a trap built for people too tired to care. And honestly? I’d bet on the trap. I press my palm against my skate strap until it hurts. “Let’s move. Eyes up.”
We step through the arch. Shadows stretch uninvitingly, more like hungry hands than giving hands across the cracked stone floors. A bell… rang? A slow, old-world chime that… feels like hope…
I caught Jax’s eye. He shrugs, equal parts excitement and nerves. I can hear Arin’s exhale. Lena tightens her shoulders, ready for anything.
And me? I stand at the threshold, my heart pounding so hard I swear the world can hear it. I take the first step into that dim glow, into whatever awaits beyond. Because hope is a double edge sword, dangerous but intriguing. But I’ll risk everything for it. Even my fractured bones. Even my life.
One step. Two. Three. The bell echoes again. We move deeper, and I swear I feel something watching us from the dark. Maybe just my thoughts, I hope.
But we are named Steel Shadows for a reason. There is no turning back.
End of log 1