The air was thick with smoke and the stench of rot, a suffocating cloud that hung like a curse over the dying remnants of the world. Will adjusted his mask, the government-issued kind with cracked rubber straps that had seen too many years of neglect. He peered through the boarded-up window of his parents’ house, the edges of the old planks trembling in the faint breeze that passed through the cracks. Outside, the city was barely visible through the haze—what once had been a vibrant expanse of glass and steel, glowing with neon lights and pulsating life, was now a hollow shell, its skyscrapers standing as tombstones to an era long gone. No one lived in them anymore. Not in the way that mattered.

  “Dad, we need to go,” Will said, his voice muffled by the mask, the urgency in his tone falling flat in the silence that clung to the room.

  His father, grizzled and worn from years of survival, barely looked up from the task at hand. He was stuffing ration cans into an old hiking pack with slow, deliberate movements, the rattle of metal on metal filling the room in lieu of conversation. He paused, then muttered without looking at Will, “And go where, exactly?”

  “Anywhere,” Will replied, his patience thinning. “It doesn’t matter. The raiders are getting closer every night.”

  His father grunted, his fingers curling around the neck of a can as though it were a lifeline. “You think the countryside’s any better? People like us won’t last a day out there. Not with all the other desperate souls crawling out of the cities.”

  Will’s mother, a fragile figure draped in a faded floral dress that had once been vibrant but was now a sad reminder of better times, shifted in her sagging armchair. Her hands twisted the fabric of her dress, the pale skin of her knuckles stark against the worn cotton. She cleared her throat, the rasp of her voice betraying the dry air she’d been forced to breathe for too long. “The countryside,” she said, her words slow but steady, like a prayer. “That’s where everyone’s going. We’ll find others there, maybe—people who can help.”

  His father scoffed, his dark eyes narrowing as he shot a look at her. “You think they want people like us showing up? Desperate, starving? No. They’ll shoot us before we even make it to the border.”

  Will didn’t respond immediately. He knew the truth of it. People didn’t survive anymore by being kind. Survival meant taking what you could, when you could, and never trusting anyone outside your own circle. Outside, the quiet was broken by the sharp crack of a gunshot. Will flinched, instinctively ducking his head.

  Another shot echoed in the distance, and Will’s heart sank. Another house, another raid. He had grown numb to it over the past few months—each shot, each scream, each cry for mercy. The neighbors had been picked off one by one, some leaving in the dead of night with their cars packed to bursting, hoping against hope that they could escape the wave of violence. Others... others were not so lucky.

  “They’re coming closer,” Will muttered, his hand gripping the edge of the table as if to steady himself. “We can’t stay here much longer. Not with them this close.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  His father sighed, rubbing his temples. His face was a map of exhaustion, etched deep with lines from years of hardship. He knew Will was right. They had all known for weeks that their time was running out, that the walls were closing in. The government had long since stopped keeping the peace in the cities—there was no authority left to trust. What was left was chaos. And chaos didn’t discriminate.

  The knock came then. Three slow, deliberate taps.

  Will’s mother gasped, her breath catching in her throat. Instantly, his father reached for the rusted shotgun that rested on the table, the heavy weight of it a reminder that peace was something lost to the past.

  “Who is it?” Will asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “It’s Lenny,” came the hoarse reply from the other side of the door. “Lenny, let me in.”

  Will hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. The last time Lenny had stopped by, it had been under far less urgent circumstances, but those days felt like a lifetime ago.

  Lenny had always been an unpredictable figure, someone who seemed to come and go with no real reason or warning. He had survived the collapse of the city, like so many others, but whether by luck, skill, or something darker, Will wasn’t sure. The thing he knew for certain was that Lenny had seen things. Too many things.

  With a shaky hand, Will unlatched the door.

  Lenny stumbled in, his clothes caked with dirt and sweat, his mask dangling loosely around his neck. His eyes were wide, wild with fear, and his breath came in ragged gasps as he took a step forward. He was older now, his hair thinning at the edges, but the look in his eyes—familiar, frantic—hadn’t changed.

  “They took the Walker place,” Lenny said, his voice barely above a rasp. “Killed everyone. They’re coming this way.”

  Will’s father didn’t need any more words. He was already moving, grabbing the shotgun with practiced ease and slinging it over his shoulder. “Pack what you can. We leave now.”

  There was no argument. No time for it. Will grabbed his bag, his hands moving mechanically as he shoved in extra filters for his mask and a few cans of food, the only things left of their once-bountiful stockpile. His mother struggled behind him, her trembling hands trying to lift a small bag of belongings, her every motion a reminder of the weight they’d all been carrying for so long.

  Outside, the street was eerily quiet. The flickering lights of a few stubborn streetlamps cut through the thick fog, casting long, twisted shadows against the abandoned houses. No one had lived here in months—at least, not anyone who had the means to leave. Now, the city was a wasteland, and they were just another family trying to escape it.

  Their car had been siphoned dry long ago. The fuel that remained in the city was reserved for those who had power or money—or for the ruthless men who raided homes like vultures picking over a carcass. Walking was their only option now.

  As they made their way toward the outskirts, the city loomed behind them, its skeletal skyline like the last remnants of a forgotten age. The glass that had once glinted in the sun now lay shattered, broken by time and neglect, its gleaming towers now dark and silent, like the gods of an ancient civilization who had long since turned their backs on humanity.

  Ahead, the countryside waited. Whether it would be salvation or a different kind of death, none of them knew. All they knew was that the suburbs were already lost. And the cities—those last bastions of human civilization—were nothing but a memory now.

  As Will glanced back one final time, the city behind him seemed to grow even more distant. Its empty streets and ruined buildings would soon be forgotten, just another chapter in the story of humanity’s decline. And what came next—he couldn’t say.

  But he knew this much: They had to keep moving. They had to keep surviving. Because there was nothing left for them in the city. There was only the unknown.