Chapter One

My senses are briefly flooded as I step off the small concrete platform, the exit to the crumbling factory. The warm sunbeams dance across my skin as I leave the shadows behind me, the smell of morning dew lingers in the air, a stark contrast to the pungent smell of rusting iron, and the sound of metal clamoring against metal from the bag I bear across my back. The weight of the bag has become one I am all too familiar with, gratefully so, This will pay off this week's rations, plus some. I think to myself.

 I pull a small crude device off of my belt, a ‘pager’ Markus called it, and press the faded red button on its surface. The button glows faintly; once, twice, three times. I approach the small two-seated car parked along the cracked and overgrown pavement, What's taking him so long? I sling my bag over my shoulder and into the passenger seat, the clanging of the scrap echoes slightly against the decrepit stone walls. I have yet to hear anything from the pager, so I begin to study my surroundings to pass the time. 

The midmorning light shines brightly between the leaves of the small tree providing shade to myself, a foothold of nature that appears to grow larger each passing day. Gazing back towards, the surprisingly intact, factory I had just scavenged. The grey brick walls, of the building are growing steadily more covered in the dark green of vines. I notice a flock of birds perched atop the once proud structure. 

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“It's weirdly pretty, isn’t” I twist around to see Markus loading his bag into the back seat, the bag noticeably lacking in volume, “Where have you been?” I scolded him harshly, “I paged you.” I wave the pager around in front of him, “I wouldn't have helped you fix these if you weren't going to use them, you know.” Markus opens the car door and the high squealing it emanates echoes amongst the stone and steel. I throw my bag into the back alongside his and take my place on the worn leather passenger seat. 

Markus quickly follows suit, “You didn’t have to help me with the pagers.” He had asked for my help a few weeks ago, Insisting that if we pool our bolts together we would end up with two rare and useful tools. “You’re the one that begged me incessantly!” I begin to mock him as we pull out of the area and out onto the road, “Oh, Eli, what if I am brutally wounded, alone in the graves, and you have not an ounce of an idea of my circumstance! With these, we can avoid such a predicament.” He punches my shoulder with a chuckle, “I do not sound like that.” I laugh, “Do too.” 

I twist my head around and look at the bags, one noticeably lacking compared to the other. I reach behind and grab Markus’ bag, “You should have gone with me, I was starting to struggle to keep the bag closed!” He shoots me a look, a mix of embarrassment and envy, “Place was ransacked, We aren’t the only ones stupid enough to be graverobbing.” As we reach the full stretch of road, I look back, a feeling of dread filling my chest, “Hey,” 

My attention is taken by Markus’ voice, “You alright?” I put his bag and place it gingerly back into its place, “Yeah…Yeah, I’m alright.” I say, “I’m just embarrassed for you, Lukas is going to give you one hell of a time when we get home!” Markus laughs, and I laugh alongside him. Yet, the feeling of dread doesn’t leave.