The glass crunched under his feet. He saw the bottle of antibiotics behind the counter, glinting like a diamond in the dust. But then, a shadow blocked the sunlight.
The air in the city didn't smell like exhaust anymore; it smelled like wet copper and old smoke. The glass crunched under his feet
He pulled his phone from a tactical pouch. It was a miracle it still worked, powered by a folding solar kit on his pack. He didn't use it for calls—there was no one left to answer—but for a modified app he’d scavenged from a developer's corpse in the early days. It wasn't a game anymore; it was a proximity sensor. The air in the city didn't smell like
Elias hopped down, his boots hitting the ground with a soft thud. He didn't run—running made noise, and noise brought the horde. He moved with a practiced, predatory grace through the maze of steel. He needed the pharmacy at the end of the block. His sister’s fever was spiking, and the scavenged aspirin was gone. He didn't use it for calls—there was no