Lucy suddenly stopped partway up the ramp, her gaze fixed on the gate—a grim mix of rusted metal and worn wood that kept Arefu closed off from the Wasteland. The old slats creaked under the weight of time, and a light breeze kicked up a cloud of dust at her feet. For a moment, she stood there, her heart beginning to race, each beat sounding louder than the last. Finally, her boots creaked against the fragile wood as she forced herself to move forward, step by step.

"HELLO?" she shouted again, her voice slicing through the stillness.

The urgency in her tone surprised even her. A soft rustle came from one of the makeshift homes ahead. Before she could fully register what she'd heard, a deafening boom shattered the anxious stillness. The blast of a grenade rocked the air, sending debris flying. Lucy hit the ground, arms over her head as pieces of wreckage rained down around her. The bitter smell of smoke and burnt metal hit her nostrils as adrenaline shot through her. She scrambled back to her feet, her heart racing wildly.

"What the hell was that!" She shouted, her voice shaking with anger and fear.

She scanned the area, heart pounding as she tried to locate the source of the attack. From the shadow of the overpass, Evan King burst onto the scene, sprinting toward her, worry etched on his face and his rifle slung across his shoulder.

"Who goes there?" He barked, his tone commanding.

"Lucy West," she replied sharply, brushing dust from her jacket as she stood upright.

"I came back because I haven't heard from my family in months, and now grenades are going off like there's a battle out here?"

Evan's expression softened just a bit, though he still looked tense.

"Lucy, it's wonderful to see you, but... things are awful here. We've been under attack—it's been going on for months. A group calling themselves The Family."

Her stomach sank. She had come for answers, hoping to find some safety for her loved ones, but the reality was far more troubling than she'd expected.

"What about my family?" She pressed her question, her voice tight with anxiety.

"Are they okay?"

Evan hesitated, shaking his head slightly.

"I've been on lookout for days. I haven't had a chance to check on everyone. You should go see for yourself."

Lucy nodded, unease tightening in her chest as her mind raced with worry.

As Lucy walked through Arefu, it felt like she'd stepped into a scene from a nightmare. Arefu, once a fragile yet vibrant sanctuary, now emitted an almost tangible fear. Haggard faces peeked out from behind worn curtains, wary eyes tracking her every move. The air was thick and weighted with anxiety, clinging to every creaking floorboard and makeshift wall. Lucy felt a lump in her throat as she neared her family home. The door was slightly open, swaying with the gentle breeze, its rusty hinges groaning softly. She froze, her hand hovering just above the handle. For a heartbeat, it felt like the entire world was holding its breath along with her. Finally, mustering all the courage she had, she pushed the door open.

Inside, the house was dimly lit, with the last rays of daylight peeking through the patched walls. Dust motes floated lazily, twisting and spiraling in the weak light as if they were playfully mocking the stillness. The sharp, metallic scent of blood hung heavily in the air, mingling with the stale aroma of abandonment. Lucy felt a tightening in her chest, a suffocating knot of dread wrapping around her heart.

Her eyes flicked around the room in a panic, searching for anything—any flicker of movement, a shadow, a sound.

"Mom? Dad? Ian?"

Her voice shook, each word trembling in the silence. The desperation in her tone only served to magnify the emptiness that answered her. There was nothing. Deathly quiet descended upon the scene. Once alive with laughter and voices, the house now felt like a grave. As she moved deeper inside, her footsteps faltered, and the creak of the floorboards beneath her boots echoed unsettlingly. The silence pressed against her, thick and smothering, making each breath feel more difficult than the last. Her gaze landed on a broken chair in the kitchen and a dark, smeared trail that led toward the back of the house. Her throat tightened, and a wave of nausea rolled through her. The sight of blood on the floor was stark and undeniable, marking a grim path she couldn't ignore. Every part of her screamed to run—to turn around and get out. Yet her legs marched onward as if some cruel force was pulling her along. Each step felt like trudging through quicksand, every breath a desperate struggle.

Then she saw her.

Her mother lay motionless on the bed—a grotesque sight in her stillness. Her skin was shockingly pale, the veins dark and stark against the almost translucent surface. Her lips held an eerie blue tint, and her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, wide open, frozen in an expression of terror and silent plea.

Lucy's knees buckled, and she crumpled beside the bed. Her trembling hand reached out, brushing against her mother's skin—a touch that sent shockwaves through her. It felt as if she was touching death, the emptiness draining the air from her lungs. A raw sob caught in her throat as grief erupted in a wail that echoed through the empty house. Her eyes shifted, and she noticed her father. He lay next to her mother, just as lifeless, his face hollow and unrecognizable. The strong, protective figure she once knew was gone, leaving behind a shell. Even in death, his hands remained clenched, as if resisting the inevitable. Lucy's trembling fingers touched his, and the chill of his skin made her stomach lurch.

"No," she whispered, her voice barely a breath—a frail denial clashing with the harsh reality before her.

The word slipped from her lips like a plea, a desperate wish to somehow undo what couldn't be changed. Her legs finally gave way, and she sank to the floor, her body shaking violently. The weight of her grief was unbearable, suffocating her beneath its crushing burden. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision as the world around her spiraled into a haze of sorrow. As the overwhelming tide of loss engulfed her, the house remained silent, a witness to her pain. She felt a primal urge to scream, to lash out, to just crumple to the ground and never stand again. But amid the haze, one thought pierced through: Ian.

He might still be alive. That tiny spark of hope was all that remained—like a lifeline pulling her toward a sense of purpose, no matter how faint. Her body responded to the thought, though it felt strange and heavy. The house was eerily silent, the only sound being the soft creaking of the wooden floorboards with each step she took, a cruel reminder of how empty her home had become. Forcing herself to move, she wandered from room to room, her voice shaky as she called for him.

"Ian? Ian, are you there?"

Her words barely made it out, as if both her voice and body were too exhausted for this.

Silence met her.

She found herself in Ian's bedroom, and what she saw froze her like ice. Scrawled across the wall in blood were the dire words:

We Are The Family.

This wasn't just a threat; it was a declaration. A signature. A curse.

Under the weight of it all, Lucy buckled and collapsed to the floor once more. Her gaze fixated on those words, emotions swirling in an unbearable tempest. The grief that had consumed her moments before twisted into something sharper—an all-encompassing rage. Her hands shook as she pressed them against her face, trying to hold back the flood of tears, but they came rushing out anyway, blinding her with their intensity.

She should've been stronger. She should've been there. She should've protected them.

Those thoughts echoed endlessly in her mind, cruel in their certainty. Yet she hadn't been there. She hadn't stopped any of this. The anguish coiled tightly in her chest, like an invisible fist clenching her heart tighter with each passing second. Her breaths grew shorter and more ragged; the pain felt almost tangible—a torment searing deep into her soul. It took everything she had to lower her hands, her fingers trembling as they unfurled from clenched fists. She could feel the crescent-shaped marks her nails had left in her palms, the sting grounding her briefly. Her grief shifted again, hardening into something more cutting—anger. Her anger took on a chilling, simmering intensity. She clenched her fists again, even tighter this time, as if that pain could keep her anchored in reality. Whoever had done this would pay for it. She promised herself that. The thought lodged firmly in her mind: revenge.

Pushing herself back to her feet, she stepped out of the house, the wind whipping against her face. Lucy's thoughts whirled as she approached Evan King's post. He stood with his back to her, his stance tense as he scanned the horizon. He turned around when he heard her footsteps, a hint of warmth returning to his face as he recognized her.

"Evan," Lucy called out, her voice shaking, her words heavy with sorrow.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"It's—it's Mom and Dad. They're dead. And Ian... he's missing."

Evan's expression fell, her words hitting him hard like a punch to the gut. Sadness and empathy crossed his features, but underneath, there was something darker—guilt.

"Lucy, I... I'm so sorry. I had no idea." His voice was sincere, thick with emotion.

"We've been trying to hold everything together, but it's just been chaos."

He moved closer, his tone softening further.

"There are only a few of us left now—Ken and Brailee Ewers, Karen Schenzy, and me. With your parents gone and Ian missing, it's down to just the four of us. Everyone else... they've scattered in the last few months. The Family... they broke them."

The thought of her once lively home now reduced to such a scared, small group tore at Lucy's heart. She swallowed hard, her voice barely audible.

"What are we going to do, Evan?"

Evan let out a long sigh, running a hand through his messy hair.

"I think they're coming from a metro station to the north," he said after a pause.

"We've seen signs—heard noises from that way. But we can't be sure."

His gaze dropped, lingering on the weapons Lucy had: the 10mm pistol at her hip, the hunting rifle slung across her shoulder, and the baseball bat on her back.

"I'm guessing you're planning to go find Ian." His tone was steady, but there was an undercurrent of regret.

"I wish I could go with you, Lucy. I really do. But I've gotta stay here and protect what's left of Arefu."

Lucy nodded, understanding where he was coming from, although she hated how harsh the reality was.

"I get it, Evan. I'll check with the others first to make sure they're okay. Then I'll head to that metro station and see what I can dig up."

Evan placed a hand on her shoulder. His grip was firm yet shaky, weighed down by his sense of failure.

"Thank you, Lucy. Stay safe out there. The Family's dangerous... and we can't afford to lose anyone else. I've already let too many people down." His voice cracked as he spoke.

"After everyone left... and now with Davis gone... it's just me. Just me trying to keep the last of us alive. I'll do my best to look after them, Lucy. But I can't do much more than that."

Evan looked down, and the hush over them conveyed an unsaid grief. His expression hardened as he finally met her eyes again, steeling himself against the doubts eating away at him.

"One more thing," he said quietly.

"Don't mention anything about your parents... or Ian. Not yet. The last thing we need is more panic. We've lost too much already. If the others hear this, they might crack completely. I'm barely keeping them together as it is."

His words lingered in the atmosphere, infused with bitterness and regret. Yet, within them, Lucy sensed a flicker of desperate resolve—a determination to keep fighting, no matter how hopeless it might seem. Arefu had been shattered, its community torn apart beyond recognition. All that was left now was a fragile hope—a hope as delicate as the worn wooden planks beneath their feet, but just enough to keep them pushing forward.

Lucy's first stop was at Ken and Brailee Ewers' home. She knocked on the door, her heart racing in her chest. After a brief, tense moment, the door slowly opened to reveal Ken's gruff, scowling face.

"What do you want?" He snapped, his eyes flicking nervously around the dimly lit entryway.

"It's Lucy," she replied, keeping her voice steady despite his harsh demeanor.

"I just wanted to check in on you and Brailee. Make sure you're both doing okay."

Ken's scowl eased just a bit, though his eyes remained cautious.

"Yeah? Well, we're great. Just peachy. I love sitting around in my house with my thumb up my ass."

His tone dripped with sarcasm, yet Lucy could sense the underlying fear. Taking a calming breath, she continued.

"Can I come in? I'd like to talk to Brailee too."

Ken hesitated, glancing back into the shadowy interior.

"Oh, for crying out loud..." He sighed, lowering his voice.

"Look, Brailee's not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, alright? If you want to talk, you talk to me. So, what the fuck do you need?"

Before Lucy could answer, Brailee's bright voice rang out from inside.

"Hello? Is that the mailman? Oh, I do hope my fall catalog is here!"

Ken groaned, his annoyance clear as he stepped aside.

"Fine, come in. Just don't expect much."

Lucy walked into the small house, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. Brailee was in the kitchen, bustling around with a smile so bright, it seemed as if the Wasteland outside didn't exist. She was busy mimicking the motions of baking over an old, battered countertop. Spotting Lucy, her face lit up even more.

"Well, hello there, dear!" Brailee exclaimed, her voice full of infectious cheer.

"I think I can spare you one of my old-fashioned chocolate chip cookies. Enjoy!"

Lucy's smile was small as Brailee presented a rusty tin can with a dramatic flourish, her heart aching for the woman who had retreated into her own joyful world to escape the horrors outside.

"Thank you, Brailee. It's great to see you."

Brailee beamed back, completely unaware of Lucy's discomfort.

"You're always welcome, sweetie. Don't forget your milk!"

She added a playful wink before returning to her imaginary baking. Ken observed the scene, his expression a mix of irritation and concern.

"See what I mean?" he muttered, gesturing toward his wife.

"She's completely checked out. All things considered, perhaps it's for the best. Anyway, you know about The Family, right? Those lowlifes turned Arefu into their personal playground. They scared off just about everyone, leaving only us stubborn or scared enough to stay behind."

"Evan told me," Lucy responded quietly.

Ken scoffed.

"I'd take a shot at those bastards myself if I thought I'd make it five steps before ending up like the Brahmin."

Lucy nodded, the heaviness of his words weighing on her. Ken's bravado was a thin mask for the fear he tried to hide.

"Stay safe, both of you," she said, glancing at Brailee, still humming softly in her little world.

"I'll do what I can to help."

Ken grunted, his face unreadable, and Lucy stepped back into the quiet settlement. The door creaked shut behind her, and the muffled sound of Brailee's humming faded away. She sensed a heavy blanket of fear and sadness while inside the Ewers' home.

The Family wasn't just haunting Arefu; its own hopelessness was causing it to crumble.

Lucy approached Karen Schenzy's house, hoping to find a little normalcy amidst the chaos.

Karen, known for her sharp tongue and rebellious nature, was the complete opposite of Evan King, whose cautious leadership felt so rigid. The two often clashed, their different personalities striking against each other like flint and steel. But Lucy knew that Karen's defiance wasn't just about being reckless; it was her way of surviving, refusing to let anguish control her life.

As Lucy got closer, she caught sight of Karen outside, her auburn hair glowing in the warm light of the setting sun. Karen was pacing around her yard, her boots crunching softly on the dirt as she moved in restless circles—a habit she indulged in, regardless of the danger. When she spotted Lucy, her face lit up, and she waved her over, exuding an energy almost out of place in the gloomy atmosphere surrounding them.

"Hey, Lucy! So glad to see you!" Karen called out, her voice cheerful and warm.

"I heard you were back in town. Crazy times, right?"

Lucy offered a smile, appreciating Karen's light in such dark moments.

"Hey, Karen. Yeah, crazy doesn't even begin to describe it. I wanted to check on you. How have you been holding up?"

Karen shrugged, her face taking on a determined look.

"I'm hanging in there. Trying not to let all this craziness get to me, you know? Evan keeps telling me to stay inside, but I can't stand being locked up. I'd rather face whatever's out there than cower behind closed doors."

Lucy admired Karen's bravery, but part of her saw the recklessness too. Still, she understood where she was coming from.

"That's really brave of you, Karen. But it's risky out here. The Family—they don't seem like the kind of threat you can just confront head-on."

Karen nodded, her expression turning serious for a moment.

"I get it. But at some point, you've gotta stand up and push back."

Her tone softened as she continued.

"Speaking of standing up, I heard you're planning to check out that metro station."

Lucy blinked, surprised.

"How did you know that? And how did you even find out I was back in town? I just got here."

Karen's grin grew wider, a playful sparkle in her eye.

"Word gets around fast here. Nah, I overheard you and Evan chatting earlier. Call it curiosity—or eavesdropping, if you want. Either way, I want to help, so I'll come with. Might as well pitch in somehow."

Lucy felt a wave of relief wash over her. Karen's self-assurance and readiness to assist provided a welcome respite from the prevailing darkness in the town.

"Thanks, Karen. That means a lot. But are you sure about this? It's not going to be easy."

Karen nodded firmly, her determination palpable.

"Absolutely! I can't just sit back while everyone else takes the risks. Besides, I've got your back. I'll stay outside the station—watch the perimeter, make sure nobody sneaks up on ya. It's the least I can do."

Lucy's lips broke into a genuine smile, the first she'd managed in what felt like ages.

"That sounds great! I could use all the help I can get. Thank you, Karen."

Karen gave a playful salute, her energy infectious.

"You got it, Lucy! Just let me know when you're ready, and we'll give The Family a run for their money."

Lucy had not felt a spark of optimism since her return to Arefu. With any luck, they will begin to reverse the trend.

Lucy and Karen strolled back to Evan King's post, the sun setting low and bathing the settlement in a warm, amber light. The shadows stretched long and discreetly across the crumbling buildings, creating dark shapes. As they got closer, Evan turned to greet them, relief visible in his eyes.

"Evan," she said.

"I checked in with everyone else. Ken and Brailee are safe for now, but Brailee... well, she's handling things in her own way. Karen and I are heading to the metro station to the north."

Evan nodded, a blend of concern and determination on his face.

"That's pleasing to hear, but you gotta be careful out there. The Family is dangerous, and that station might be crawling with them." He paused, carefully considering his next words.

"Here are some survival tips: Maintain a low profile, move silently, and constantly monitor your surroundings. Stick together, and if things get tough, don't hesitate to pull back. It's better to regroup than to end up in a difficult spot." He looked at them both earnestly.

"But above all, trust each other. Listen to what one another has to say. I've made those mistakes—when I stopped believing in the people of Arefu, it led us to where we are now. Don't let that happen to you." His voice softened, tinged with regret.

"This world is harsh. If you don't unite, you may as well end up dead."

He gestured toward the settlement behind him, his gaze distant, as if he was seeing something beyond the crumbling walls.

"Look at this place. It's falling apart because we stopped working together. Don't let that be your fate."

Karen nodded, taking in his words. "Got it. We'll be careful."

Evan reached into his pack, pulling out a .32-caliber revolver along with a few rounds, which he handed to Karen.

"Take this. It's small, light, and easy to handle. It won't take someone down with one shot unless you hit a vital spot, but it's dependable for close encounters." He glanced at Lucy's hunting rifle.

"Lucy's rifle is the same caliber. It's accurate and great for long-range shots, but slower up close. Take your time—make every shot count."

Karen inspected the revolver and then looked at Lucy, a spark of determination in her eyes.

"Thanks, Evan. We'll make sure it counts."

Lucy nodded gratefully at Evan.

"Thanks for everything. We'll do what we can to find Ian and end this."

Evan placed a hand on each of their shoulders, his grip steady.

"Take care of yourselves out there. We'll be waiting for you."

With the burden of their mission heavy on their shoulders, Lucy and Karen embarked toward the north. The road to Seneca Station will be dangerous, but they were in it together. The cool night air carried an uncanny tranquility, with moonlight casting a ghostly glow over the barren wasteland.

With every step, they moved closer to finding Ian and facing the terror of The Family.