Prologue

"Sometimes even to live is an act of courage ." ― Seneca.

Freedom Street

Bandung

There is no longer a safe place.

Diara ran between the collapsed buildings, gripping the black rifle while focusing on the dark road ahead. His heart raced as the lights from above hit him. He swooped out of the spotlight and into the rest of the building.

It's a bit dark here, the only light coming from the night sky in the roof hatch. Grey walls surrounded Diara and visible bullet holes and scorched marks in several parts. Wrecked furniture and shards of glass were scattered on the floor.

He jumped over a wooden pole that crossed the road. Then leaned against a wall covered in bullet holes. Outside, the roar of engines could be heard as lights flashed from above. Back and forth, illuminating the path, fighting the dark to find it.

"Prama, where are you?" he whispered, panting. "Oh no, I'm going to die."

      Darn! Bullets fell from a giant hole in the roof. He ducked and ran outside through the debris on the road with agility.

        A triangular-shaped white jet highlighted Diara. Shoots streaks of light that explode around it. Totes bag, his food was shot, and the cans scattered and burned.

"Damn, Buzz! That's our meal for the week!"

Two-meter-tall white robots followed suit. Their heads are round iron with glowing blue eyes and short antennae instead of ears. Shots mounted on both shoulders, pointing forward.

"There are droids of all."

      Zzp ! Streaks of light shot out from the shot, exploding near Diara's feet. He jumped over debris and then ducked behind an overturned car.

        "Okay, it's an emergency." He pulled a grenade from his jacket pocket, removed his safety and stood up. "Hey, tin ass!" He throws it.

      Bam! The ground shook slightly. Behind the smoke, a droid was seen lying headless, electricity shooting from the hole in its neck. Diara smirked, but a buzz flew through the smoke towards her.

        The HT on Diara's shoulder rang. "You used grenades?!" said the man, shrill.

        "The first thing you're worried about is a grenade?!" "Where are you?" he replied, broken up.

Diara saw a crooked street sign that read HYATT. "I passed the Hyatt! They're jamming our signal!"

        Ahead, an army of white robots ran on iron boots. Diara turned down the alley. A wire fence blocks the ends. He slung the rifle, rapidly climbing up. His hands and feet move irregularly. Hap! Jump and land behind the wall, and enter the highway.

His eyes search. Many intact buildings here, one of which is a shop, a restaurant to be precise. He crossed the street and entered through a giant hole in the glass wall.

The glass scratches his arm. He screamed a little but kept running, letting the blood run down his jacket sleeve.

        He stepped between the scattered tables and chairs and through the kitchen door. He flicked the flashlight over the gun, shining a light around it. It was wide here, dust covered the floor, and the roof was full of holes. On the side, there is a refrigerator along with old stoves.

      It looks safe in here. The droids won't see it. He took a deep breath. Then walk around with a flashlight.

Her eyes bulged to find a long cupboard in front. Inside is a can of root beer expired, a bottle of ketchup and two cans of dusty sardines.

"Wow, I can't remember the last time I had root beer. "

Diara accidentally saw her face in the mirror of the wardrobe door. Olive oval, glistening with sweat. Staring into those brown eyes, almond-shaped with a black line beneath them and full, dry lips. Then he brushed his chest black hair, limp from not washing it.

      Srrk!

     There were steps ahead, behind the cupboard. Diara immediately shifted and glared but only saw empty shelves. He stepped slowly toward the frame, but there was nothing.

        Suddenly someone smothered Diara from behind. Pull and lock it with a sturdy arm. His body was touching her back. While one hand pressed the muzzle of the gun to the side of Diara's forehead.

"Drop your rifle," said a baritone voice—deep and calm. Right in front of Diara's ear. "Don't make me ask twice." It's human. Teenager.

Diara shivered between fear and wanting to hear his voice again. It was the only human voice—besides Prama—that he had heard in the last six months.

He nodded and then lowered the rifle, his grip loosened. Dug! Diara elbowed, hitting the stomach behind her. He turned around, punched the man in the face and kicked him in the chest until he fell against the wardrobe.

Diara grabbed her gun and ran, only two steps before her feet were caught and pulled. He fell on his back on the floor. I was about to get up, but the man lunged, pinning Diara with his body.

"Get away from me!" Diara punched the man's face.

He held both her hands to the floor. "Don't scream," he replied, calm. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Sure, I really trust you!"

"If you calm down, I'll let you go." he stretched his grip.

"Patrol droids outside, you run there, and they will come after me too."

Diara resisted, but her hand was held firmly. "Just let the droids scorch your forehead!"

"Calm down, or we'll be like this all night."

That would be weird. Finally, despite being irritated, Diara nodded and stopped fighting. Slowly the man let go of the grip, then got up and sat in front of Diara, bathed in darkness.

He was about to speak, but Diara kicked him in the face with the boot's sole. He was pushed against the cupboard, grimacing. Diara quickly pulled the rifle from the floor and pointed it at him. Instantly the light of the rifle's flashlight shone on the man.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

They both looked at each other. Surprised.

The man's face was fair and white with a black pout and strong cheekbones as if perfectly chiselled. The combination of handsome and dashing. His hair is black as charcoal, messy. Looking into her eyes, Diara was pensive.

He has blue eyes.

Not contact lenses, but pure blue. As blue as sapphires like Logan Lerman's eyes. It so clearly made Diara seem to drown in it. Confused at the same time.

"Don't shoot," he said, deep and calm. "The droids will be rushing in here."

"You were going to shoot me."

He smiled faintly. "An empty gun won't kill you."

"You're one of them?" Diara aimed at the boy's forehead. "Why do you have blue eyes?"

He stared at the muzzle of the gun in front of him. "To be honest, my family and I have also wondered about the colour of my eyes a long time ago. What is certain is that I am human, not a Viator, let alone a robot."

"Oh yeah? Your leather isn't synthetic?" Diara rubbed the boy's cheek with the muzzle of the gun. Makes it tense. "You're not some of their crazy creations?"

"No. My name is Revan." He shifted the muzzle of the rifle.

"You?"

For a moment, Diara was silent. His gaze swept across that face that, for some reason, made him not want to look away. As well as making sure he's actually human. No wires or machines. It seems like he's safe.

"Diara." He blinked, the boy's eyes distracting him. "Who are you? Thugs?"

Revan laughed a little, sounding warm. "I should be the one asking. You're the one who beat me up," he replied. "Sorry, I panicked earlier. Haven't seen a human in six months. I'm afraid you're just...

My imagination because you're too good to be accurate."

Diara raised an eyebrow. "Too good?"

"Umm ..." Revan blinked awkwardly. "I mean, you..." He cleared his throat. "Because of you... you... look human. You're human, after all."

Then Revan glanced at the blood dripping onto the floor. He stepped forward, touching Diara's arm to see the wound. Then they locked eyes and closed. Even Diara could hear Revan's breath.

Revan blinked, then reached into his mountain bag. You can see medicine bottles and various medical devices, and a stethoscope. He also took bandages and clear bottles.

"Do you know how to use a stethoscope?" asked Diara.

"Yes." Revan smiled slightly. "You don't know ?"

"Are you a doctor?" Diara winced as the clear fluid washed her wound. "Alcohol, huh?"

"Saline. Alcohol can slow the growth of new skin tissue." He rolls a bandage. "I joined PMR in the third grade of elementary school. I learned from the doctors in my group too."

      nging! There was a buzz above, flying over the rooftops of these buildings. Followed by a lot of iron steps outside, coming closer here. They quickly put on their backpacks and stood up. Diara was about to speak, but Revan smothered her.

        He let go of Revan's hand. "I don't want to scream!"

"We have to pass th—"

      Darn! The laser streaks pierced through the roof, instantly exploding when they hit the floor. They rushed to run past the shelves while ducking under a shower of lasers. One shelf collapsed towards them, and Revan immediately pulled Diara and accidentally hugged her. The rack fell behind him.

        They ran past the rows of shelves until they came to a door marked EXIT. Diara peeked through the dusty window. Outside there was a troop, this time not droids but five Viators, coming from the left.

The Viators are two-meter tall, slender, white-skinned snake-like creatures. Their heads are oval, twice the length of a human face, with prominent cheekbones. They had big black eyes, no nose and their mouth was two thin white lips.

They were wearing army suits—all white over vests and metal boots. Carrying a sizeable white rifle buzzing, ready to fire.

      The Viator at the very front gave directions in a bass voice.

Using their native language, Viatrish, which sounds foreign.

"There is a boss of the droids," said Diara. "Viators ."

"Diara, your shot is good?" Suddenly Revan was holding a green bottle filled with liquid. "I throw this, you shoot. Don't miss."

Although confused, Diara nodded and looked through the scope. Revan took a few steps away, throwing his bottle through the hole in the window. While hovering in front of the Viators, Diara fired.

      Bam! The bottle exploded into orange flames that expanded through the air. Diara twitched, hearing the bang. The fire hit the two Viators in the face, spread fast and devoured their entire bodies within seconds. Both fell, floundering on the asphalt with black liquid seeping from their skin.

Yes, fire is Viator's fastest killer weapon.

       Diara glared. "What's in that bottle?!"

"Many, one of them is spirit."

        Instantly another Viator approached while shooting at the window earlier. Revan pushed open the door, pulling Diara out. They ran down the highway like men on fire.

The Viators came to their senses and gave chase, shooting streaks of light that erupted near the feet of the two. Darn! Hit the car beside Diara until it exploded, and the fire rose high. He screamed as the car door fell right in front of him.

"Turn there!" Revan pulled Diara around. "We're looking for a solid building."

They swoop to the right. The sudden stop because the Jeep had no lights almost hit them. Diara saw the bushy-haired man glaring and gaping in the driver's seat.

"Pram !" shouted Diara. "You brought a car?"

Prama put his head out of the window. "Don't talk! Go up!"

Revan stepped forward and Diara behind. Before closing the door, Prama stepped on the gas and turned around until the tires screeched. Diara screamed, holding on. Then the car slid down the highway, turning nimbly past wrecked vehicles.

      Buzz followed behind, firing lasers non-stop. Prama turned the steering wheel until the whole car shook. Occasionally Diara hit the window.

She screamed. "Could you slow down a bit?!"

"No! Being an alien snack is not my goal!"

"Find an alley," said Revan. "The narrow road made things difficult for them."

"I know a few alleys here." Prama nodded, then choked and glared at Revan. "Wait, who are you?!"

Instantly the car swerved. "Look at the road, Crazy!" shouted Diara.

Prama's thick lips gasped. "Dee, where did this guy come from?!"

"We met and—"

"This day, you don't just meet guys and acquaintances!" Prama looked at Revan for a second, then lifted his left foot towards him. "Explain who you are, or I'll kick you out!"

Revan leaned toward the door. "I swear I'm human! Separated from my group."

The car dived into the alley. Tung! Crashed into a trash can and bounced off the windshield. When near the end of the path, Prama braked deeply until the car stopped suddenly. Then pulled the key, making the car turn off.

"Shut up," Prama whispered. "Buzz can't detect dead engine."

Everything froze. Tensed as the buzz passed overhead with the beam of light. Just pass without attacking. Soon the roar faded away until it could no longer be heard.

The three of them leaned back in the seats, catching their breath. "Well," said Prama. "My first ride was okay too."

***

Revan explained about his group.

He placed the battery light on the hood of the Jeep and unfolded a map of Java. There are several red dots and crosses. The red dot is the next destination. A cross means he has passed and did not meet his group. These six months have been eight crosses.

Prim looked suspiciously. "Why did you leave your group?"

"I'm one of the invulnerable and physically strongest. I went looking for survivors. When they came back, they had moved. I think it was out of necessity."

"One of?" Diara frowned. "There are many like... us?"

Revan nodded. "But not everyone in my group is immune."

"Are you serious?! How are you two holding up?"

"Most of them survived the radiation because they were at a safe distance. My group always stayed away from irradiated locations." Revan was silent for a moment, his blue eyes staring weakly. "During the Tuberculosis epidemic, there was a shortage of drugs. We... focused on treating those not chronic, so many survived."

Diara took a breath, preventing the horrible memory from coming. Then he and Revan talked about the red dots on the map. Revan had calculated the safe distance from each explosion.

There are only a few low-radiation areas in West Java because dozens of nuclear bombs hit in the past. The closest points are Bogor and Bekasi, 130 and 140 kilometres away.

"Okay, we camp tonight, leaving after sunrise." Diara clapped once. "Tomorrow, the three of us will have adventures like Athos, Aramis and Porthos ."

Raven was silent, confused. Diara continued. "From The Three

Musketeers, Alexandre Dumas ."

"Hmm." Revan raised an eyebrow. "You're a bookworm."

Then he went to unpack the backpack. Meanwhile, Prama drew closer to Diara, frowning.

"We're going on an outing tomorrow," Diara said. "Why are you frowning?"

"I don't know, I don't like tour guides. It's just us." He smiled a little. "My instincts told me he was hiding something."