The sun was a cruel, unyielding force as it beat down on the cracked earth, the heat shimmering like ghosts in the distance. A lone figure trudged through the wasteland, his footsteps crunching on brittle dirt. His name was Caleb Thorn, a wiry man with sharp eyes and a scar running across his cheek. He was armed with a rusted rifle slung over one shoulder, though the way he carried it suggested he hadn’t fired it in weeks—maybe longer.

Behind him, a small group followed, their movements cautious, their faces weathered by years of survival.

There was Reyna, her dark braids tied back beneath a battered baseball cap. She carried a machete strapped to her hip and a homemade slingshot tucked into her belt. A scavenger by trade, her sharp tongue was rivaled only by her sharper instincts.

Next came Jonah, a hulking man with a kind face that didn’t quite match his intimidating frame. He carried a sledgehammer slung across his back and had a knack for fixing just about anything that hadn’t been completely destroyed.

Last was Sari, the youngest of the group. Barely in her teens, she clutched a battered notebook to her chest, the pages filled with sketches of creatures she’d imagined roaming the wasteland. Her wide eyes darted nervously between the distant horizon and Caleb’s back, as though expecting danger at any moment.

“How much farther?” Sari asked, her voice small but insistent.

Caleb didn’t look back. “Couple more miles. If we’re lucky.”

Reyna snorted, kicking a loose rock. “You’re banking on luck? Haven’t we learned by now that luck’s a liar?”

“Call it what you want,” Caleb replied evenly. “There’s supposed to be a water source near here. We need it.”

“And if it’s another dry hole?” Jonah asked, his deep voice calm but probing.

“Then we keep moving,” Caleb said without hesitation.

The answer didn’t satisfy, but it was all they had.

The group trudged on in silence until the sun dipped low, painting the wasteland in hues of red and orange. Caleb raised a hand, signaling them to stop. He scanned the horizon, his rifle at the ready, though his body language was tense.

“There,” he said, nodding toward a crumbling structure half-buried in the dirt. It looked like the remnants of a gas station, its faded sign leaning precariously.

“Think there’s anything left?” Reyna asked skeptically, drawing her machete.

“Only one way to find out.” Caleb started forward, the others following close behind.

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The inside of the gas station was a ruin. Dust coated the shelves, and the air smelled faintly of rot. Caleb moved cautiously, his footsteps soft as he scanned the space. Jonah checked the back room, his massive frame barely fitting through the doorframe, while Reyna sifted through the debris near the counter.

“Jackpot,” Reyna muttered, holding up a can of peaches.

Jonah returned, carrying a jug of water with a questioning look. Caleb nodded, and Jonah cracked the seal. He took a cautious sip, then grinned. “It’s clean.”

Sari sat near the door, sketching the outline of a long-dead tree visible through the broken window. She glanced up as Caleb knelt beside her, his expression softening slightly. “You good, kid?”

Sari nodded, though her hands fidgeted with her pencil. “Do you think we’ll find anyone else out here?”

Caleb hesitated, his gaze drifting to the horizon. “Maybe. If they’re smart enough to keep their heads down.”

Reyna snorted from across the room. “Or if they’re dumb enough to stick around. You know what happens when people get too comfortable out here.”

“They die,” Jonah said simply, taking another swig of water.

Sari frowned, her pencil pausing on the page. “Not everyone.”

Reyna rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

The quiet was broken by a faint noise—something distant, metallic, like a chain rattling. Caleb froze, his rifle coming up instinctively. The others followed his lead, their bodies tense, their eyes scanning the shadows.

“Someone’s out there,” Caleb said, his voice low.

Reyna moved to the window, her machete ready. “Think they’re friendly?”

Caleb’s expression hardened. “Nobody out here is.”

The sound grew louder, closer—a rhythmic clanking that sent a chill through the group. Jonah moved to block the door, his sledgehammer gripped tightly.

Then it stopped. The silence was deafening.

Sari clutched her notebook tighter, her breathing shallow. Caleb motioned for everyone to stay still, his rifle aimed at the doorway.

Minutes passed, each one stretching longer than the last. Then a voice echoed from the darkness outside.

“Didn’t mean to spook you.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes, his grip tightening on the rifle. “Step into the light.”

A figure appeared in the doorway, their hands raised in a gesture of peace. It was a man, lean and haggard, his clothes torn and his face streaked with dirt. He carried no visible weapon, though his wary eyes suggested he knew how to fight.

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” the man said, his voice hoarse. “Just looking for some water.”

Caleb didn’t lower his rifle. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Tyler,” the man replied. “Been out here a while. Alone.”

Reyna scoffed. “Nobody survives alone out here.”

Tyler’s gaze flicked to her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Guess I’m the exception.”

Caleb didn’t move. “If you’re lying—”

“I’m not,” Tyler interrupted, his tone firm but calm. “Just passing through. If you’ve got nothing to share, I’ll keep moving.”

The tension hung heavy in the air. Finally, Caleb lowered the rifle slightly, though his posture remained stiff. “You can have a drink. But no funny business.”

Tyler nodded, stepping cautiously into the room. Reyna watched him like a hawk as Jonah handed him a small bottle of water. Tyler drank greedily, his movements betraying how long it had been since he’d last eaten or drank.

Sari, curious despite her fear, spoke up. “Where are you going?”

Tyler paused, lowering the bottle. “Nowhere in particular. Just away from trouble.”

Reyna snorted. “Good luck with that.”

The group let Tyler go, watching as his figure disappeared into the wasteland. Caleb lingered at the doorway, his eyes scanning the horizon long after Tyler was gone. He couldn’t shake the feeling that trouble was closer than they realized.

“We move at first light,” Caleb said finally, his voice low but resolute. “This place isn’t safe.”

Reyna rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, and the group settled in for another restless night in the wasteland.