Chapter 8: Not So Shocking Revelations

We don’t reach Sector 72 before nightfall, much to Reza’s annoyance now that is back to her normal mode. Everyone is acting like nothing happened just a couple of hours ago. It vexes me, getting on my nerves, as we try to find a secure place in Sector 71 to stay the night in.

The jewelry shop we're holed up in isn’t much. The glass cases are smashed; the once-glittering displays of wealth are now shards of sharp, dangerous debris underfoot. But someone found some decent blankets, and we’ve got a fire going in the middle of the floor, smoke curling up through the shattered skylight above us. The smell of whatever Jax found for dinner—some kind of canned stew—fills the air, and for a moment, it almost feels normal. Almost.

I glance around as I eat. Rina is sitting next to me, knees pulled up to her chest, a faint smile on her face as she prattles on about something. She’s warmed up to me since Milo’s death; the shyness she wore like armor is starting to crack. She’s got a quick smile now, even if it doesn’t always reach her eyes, and she talks a lot more. I guess she’s found some comfort in having someone new to talk to—someone who wasn’t here for the worst of what they’ve been through.

I spoon another mouthful of stew into my mouth and almost sigh in relief. It’s still canned slop, but it’s better than the camp food I have gotten used to surviving on. “This is practically gourmet,” I say, my voice laced with a mix of sarcasm and genuine appreciation.

Rina laughs, a light sound that contrasts with the tension that still lingers in the room. “You should’ve seen what we had a few weeks back,” she says between bites. “Jax found this old stash of MREs from who knows when. They tasted like cardboard dipped in chemicals.”

“Makes this seem like a five-star meal,” I reply, grinning.

She nods enthusiastically, her spoon clinking against the metal bowl in her hand. “Exactly! It’s the little things, you know?”

As I finish my portion, Rina’s chatter turns into a steady hum in the background. I find myself relaxing more than I have in days. The fire crackles, casting flickering shadows on the walls, and for a few moments, I let myself forget about the world outside. But the feeling doesn’t last long.

“We should relieve Kana,” I say, pushing myself to my feet. Rina looks up at me and nods, her smile fading slightly. She’s not stupid; she knows the routine, knows that we can’t let our guard down even for a second.

We make our way to the entrance, where Kana is standing watch. She doesn’t say much; just gives a brief nod as we approach, then slips past us and heads back to the fire. Rina takes up a position by the door, peering out into the dark street, while I lean against the wall, my mind wandering.

“Do you ever think about the colonies?” Rina’s voice breaks the silence, and I turn to look at her.

“What about them?” I ask, curious.

“Luna and Mars,” she continues, staring out into the night, her expression thoughtful. “They’ve always wanted to break free from Earth’s control. Ever since the early 2100’s. What if they’re using all of this— the chaos, the desperation—to finally make their move?”

I raise an eyebrow. “You think they’re taking advantage of the situation?”

She nods. “They’ve tried before, haven’t they? Twice. And both times, Earth crushed them. But now... now we’re weak. And they’re out there, probably watching, waiting. Maybe even pushing things along.”

I frown, considering her words. “But they’ve been sending relief, haven’t they? Supplies, drones, medical teams—”

“That’s what they say,” Rina interrupts. “But how much of that is true? How much of it is just a cover for something else?”

Before I can respond, the door creaks behind me, and Reza steps out of the shadows, her face half-hidden in the dim light. “You’re giving them too much credit,” she says, her voice low. “Luna and Mars know better than to poke the bear. The last time they tried, Earth made sure they’d never forget it. They will send aid—not much aid, none the less. It will be slow at first but it will ramp up. Maybe in the next few years, Earth will be almost entirely abandoned.”

Rina turns to face her, crossing her arms over her chest. “If they’re so scared, then why are we even out here? Why are we looking for that algae farm? If they’re really helping, we shouldn’t need it, should we?”

Reza’s expression tightens, and I catch the way her jaw clenches, the way her eyes flicker ever so slightly. Rina’s struck a nerve, and I can’t help but notice the slip in her question. Algae farm? Finally, a damn clue as to what we are searching far. I want to press but I keep my mouth shut, waiting to see how this plays out.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“We’re out here because we can’t rely on anyone but ourselves,” Reza finally says. “Whatever Luna and Mars are doing, it’s not going to be quick enough. The farm... it’s insurance. In case things get worse.”

Rina shakes her head, frustration clear in her voice. “But why? Won’t people leaving, reduce the load on our resources? Please tell me that you have a better reason for risking our lives—Milo’s death—for something that we may not even need. If you are so sure about their aid?”

Reza's eyes narrow as she stares down at Rina, her posture rigid and tense. “We’re searching for that farm because we can't afford to rely on anyone else,” she says firmly, her voice taut with restrained anger. “Aid from Luna and Mars isn’t going to be enough in the short term. Thousands of lives rely on us finding that farm, for them to fallback in case things go south.”

Rina doesn’t back down, her frustration evident in the way she tightens her grip around her arms, like she’s holding herself together. “But we’re risking our lives, Reza! For what? A backup plan that might not even work? If those colonies are really helping, then why isn’t their aid making a difference? Why do we need this algae farm?”

I watch the two of them, feeling like an outsider in my own group. This argument is more important than my curiosity, but it’s hard to ignore the nagging questions piling up in my mind.

Reza takes a deep breath, clearly trying to keep her cool. She glances at me, maybe to see if I’m going to chime in, but I stay quiet. This is between them.

“Rina,” Reza begins, her tone softening just a touch, “you’re thinking too much about what should be happening and not what actually is. The reality is, we’re on our own. We don’t know if the aid will reach us, or how much longer it’ll last. This farm could be the difference between life and death for us. It’s not about what’s fair or what’s right—it’s about surviving.”

Rina lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Surviving... right. And what about Milo? Did he survive? No, because we’re chasing a dream, a hope, while the colonies sit back and watch us tear each other apart.”

Reza winces, and for a second, I see the guilt flash across her face before she hides it behind that same unyielding mask. “Milo knew the risks. We all do. He wouldn’t want us to stop now.”

Before Rina can argue back, I step in, “Look, arguing about it isn’t going to change what’s happened. We’re all in this together, and we’ve got to trust that Reza’s making the right call. Whether it’s the algae farm or something else, we have to keep moving forward.”

Rina opens her mouth to say something but then closes it, her shoulders slumping as she lets out a frustrated sigh. She looks out into the dark street, her anger still simmering but with nowhere left to go.

Reza gives me a small, grateful nod before turning to head back inside. “Get some rest,” she says over her shoulder. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

I watch her go, feeling a strange mix of relief and unease. Rina stays by the door, staring out into the night, lost in her thoughts. I don’t push her to talk; she’s got enough on her mind already. Instead, I take a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill my lungs, trying to push down the swirling thoughts that threaten to keep me up all night.

The next morning, we’re up before dawn, and the jewelry shop bathed in the faint glow of early light. We pack up quickly. Reza is focused, her usual intensity back in full force. Jax is his quiet self, keeping to the background but always ready, always watching. Rina’s movements are quick and sharp, her frustration from last night still lingering, and Kana is as silent and brooding as ever.

We leave the shop behind and start the trek into Sector 72 on foot. We decide to leave the car behind, now that the streets are too strubble-strewn.

It’s eerily quiet, the only sounds coming from our footsteps and the distant echo of wind through the empty streets. We move cautiously, our eyes scanning every shadow, every corner, for signs of danger.

As we push into Sector 72, the air grows heavier, filled with a sense of foreboding that gnaws at the edges of my mind. I can see it in the others too—the way Jax keeps his hand on his weapon, the way Reza’s gaze darts around, never settling on one spot for too long. Even Rina, who’s usually more relaxed, is tense, her eyes wide and alert.

Then, we hear it—a faint, wheezing sound, barely audible over the crunch of debris underfoot. We freeze, every muscle tensing as we strain to listen. The sound comes again, closer this time, like someone struggling to breathe.

Reza signals for us to follow; her steps are careful and deliberate as we move towards the source of the sound. It leads us to a narrow alley, half-hidden behind a burnt-out building. And there, slumped against the wall, is a man.

He’s in bad shape; his clothes are torn and filthy, his skin is pale and covered in sores. His breathing is shallow, each inhale rattling in his chest like broken glass. He looks up as we approach, his eyes wide and wild with fear.

Reza kneels beside him, her voice gentle but firm. “What happened to you?” she asks, though the answer is already clear in the haunted look in his eyes.

The man’s lips tremble as he tries to speak, his voice a hoarse whisper. “They... they came... the drones... soldiers... said they were here to help, but... but it was a lie. They’re not here to save us... they’re here to kill us.”

My blood runs cold at his words, Riza steps closer, her face stoic. “Who? Who did this?”

The man’s gaze flickers, unfocused, as if he’s reliving some nightmare. “Luna... Mars... they’re... they’re behind it all. The disease... it’s them. They’re... they’re getting rid of us. Earth... Earth is dying…”

His words come out in broken, disjointed fragments, but the horror in them is undeniable. He coughs violently, blood speckling his lips, and I can see his strength fading, his life slipping away with each ragged breath.

“They... they hit the big cities first... the darts... spreading the disease... they want us... gone... all of us..." His voice is barely a whisper now, his eyes glazing over. "Don’t... don’t trust... the aid... it’s... it’s a trap.”