The morning was gray, the sky a blanket of heavy clouds as the group rose from their sleeping bags, stretched out sore limbs, and pulled on their scavenging gear.
Anna tightened her braid, adjusted her jacket, and nodded at the others.
"We'll head to the south block today. There's a row of old shops still standing. I can restore what we need."
They moved quickly through cracked streets and overgrown sidewalks, the city eerily quiet but alive with distant creaks and the rustle of animals reclaiming the earth.
Inside an abandoned electronics store, the group spread out. Penelope searched the back. Arthur and Gwen lifted a collapsed shelf. Annabelle kept watch by the entrance while Anna gently placed her hand over an old solar generator.
With a soft glow of her space-based power, the rusted metal reversed time, returning to gleaming form.
Just as she finished, a soft crunch echoed from outside.
"Someone's here," Annabelle whispered, peeking through a gap in the boarded-up window.
They all froze.
Across the street stood a teenage boy. Their age—or close. Pale gray hoodie. Scuffed black cargo pants. A steel crowbar rested on his shoulder, his posture wary but confident.
He didn't run. He watched them.
Arthur stepped forward cautiously. "Think he's with a group?"
Anna narrowed her eyes. "Maybe. Or maybe he's just really good at surviving alone."
Then the boy raised his voice—steady, flat.
"Leave the gear. Walk away. I don't want to hurt you."
Annabelle blinked. "Excuse me?"
Gwen bristled. "You threatening us? Alone?"
The boy didn't flinch. "You're not from here. You don't smell like this world. You're different. I don't know what you are. But I've seen enough to know strange things are dangerous."
Anna stepped forward, palms slightly raised. "We're not a threat. Just scavengers."
"No scavenger carries gear that clean," he said, eyes flicking toward Anna's restored generator.
Then, another voice rang out—raspy, laughing.
"Looks like someone found dessert for us!"
Six figures emerged from the alley—armed, armored, and reeking of trouble.
The leader, a tall woman with mismatched armor plates and yellow eyes, sneered. "Nice haul. And look at the girls."
The rest of her gang laughed, gripping rifles, bats, and improvised weapons.
Anna's eyes darkened. "Not happening."
The boy moved beside her silently.
"I hope you're not idiots," he said. "They kill fast. And ugly."
"We're not idiots," Arthur growled. "We're just mad now."
The fight ignited like wildfire.
Gwen was the first to move—vanishing from view in a blur, slamming a raider against a metal post with blinding speed.
Annabelle dropped to one knee, planting her hand against the cracked pavement. Vines erupted, whipping through the air and snatching up a screaming attacker.
Penelope conjured an arc of ice from her fingertips, sliding under a thrown blade and freezing a raider's boots to the ground. She then flicked a shard toward another's rifle, slicing the trigger clean off.
Arthur rushed forward with a roar, generating a kinetic pulse that blasted two attackers off their feet. He spun, intercepting a blade with his hardened arm shield.
Anna moved with measured precision. Her spatial shields shimmered into place, intercepting bullets, redirecting knives, sealing off escape routes. Her power made the battlefield a shifting maze of safety and threat.
But then one raider broke through the line, lunging toward Anna with a serrated machete.
She ducked—but he was fast.
Too fast.
CRACK!
The attacker convulsed mid-air as a blinding arc of lightning blasted through him.
The boy stood beside her—hand still crackling with electricity, face unreadable.
"Stay down," he muttered.
Two more charged from the left.
With a twist of his palm, a surge of white-blue lightning leapt from his body, arcing between their weapons and bodies, sending them screaming into the dirt.
In seconds, the fight was over. The rest of the gang fled, limping and broken.
Silence fell over the ruined street.
The boy stood motionless, lightning fading from his fingers. He exhaled slowly and turned to them.
"You're not normal," he said. "None of you."
Anna's lips curled slightly. "Neither are you."
They returned to the school, tension easing only slightly.
He finally accepted a cup of heated water from Arthur and sat cross-legged by the broken fireplace.
"Name?" Anna asked softly.
"Charles."
"You live here?"
"I survive here."
She studied his face. "You knew we weren't from this era."
He nodded once.
Charles' Revelation
"I was born in 2225," Charles began, staring into the flickering light. "Way after your time. You guys are history to us. A mystery, really."
Penelope frowned. "Then how did you know we were—?"
"We studied you in school," he interrupted. "You were called The Rested. People who fell asleep during New Year's decades ago. No one knew why. You just… stopped. Millions."
"There was panic at first. Then confusion. Then science stepped in. They moved you into high-security military hospitals to keep you alive. You didn't age. Didn't decay. You just slept."
"I remember... I was nine when our class took a field trip to one of those hospitals. We walked through the glass corridors. Saw rows of pods, each with a sleeping person inside. Nurses called you legends. Some thought you'd wake up to save us. Some thought you'd bring doom."
Annabelle's hands trembled slightly. "They put us on display?"
"No," Charles said quietly. "They honored you. For a time. Then, life moved on."
He stared at the ground.
"Technology hit its peak. Flying cities. Neural implants. Then… the Collapse."
Anna listened, heart tight.
"Natural disasters. Solar storms. The sky turned red for a week. And then—powers. Some people changed. I was twelve when mine first sparked. Nearly electrocuted my dog."
Arthur let out a low whistle. "You've been surviving since then?"
He nodded. "It's been chaos. Some Rested started waking up recently. The world's regressing. Nature is eating tech. And some say… the Rested bring the balance."
Anna inhaled shakily. "Our parents—"
"They might have been kept in other facilities," Charles said. "Some were adults when they Rested. There's a chance."
"There's a military archive compound in the lower ruins. It may have names. Records."
Arthur stood. "Then we go there."
Charles's expression softened. "You'll need a guide."
Anna looked up. "You're offering?"
"I've studied the past my whole life," he said. "Now the past is awake. And standing in front of me."
Anna felt it again—something sparking in her chest. Hope. Fire. A strange pull toward this boy born in the aftermath, who knew about her before she even opened her eyes.
That night, as the tiger cub snuggled beside a heater and the wind howled outside, Charles sat beside Anna in quiet.
"You're not what I imagined," he said softly.
"And you're not just a kid from the future," she replied.
He looked over. "I'd like to help. If you'll let me."
She smiled. "Only if you don't zap the rest of us in your sleep."
He smirked.
For the first time in weeks, Anna felt safe.
Not just because of their powers. Not just because of their fortress.
But because there was someone else out there who believed they still mattered.