Chapter 19
The orange house emerged from the lengthening shadows like a faded beacon as Elias and Joy hurried through the gate.
Inside, the familiar stale smell of abandonment greeted them, mixed with the faint, lingering odor of old wood polish.
As the last orange glow faded from the sky outside, Elias knelt before Joy in the dim living room. The rough fabric of the couch scratched his knees.
"Listen carefully," he said, his voice low and serious in the quiet. "Rules to stay alive." He held up a calloused finger. "One: Never be near any wall of the house at night.
The hoarders, those dog-like monsters, can smell us through them. If they catch our scent, they can call the harpies, those flying monsters, and the harpies will send the giants." Joy nodded, her small face pale in the gloom, her eyes wide and fixed on his.
"Two: Sleep the moment it's fully dark. Less chance they hear us moving." He raised another finger. "Three: No noise after sunset. Not a whisper. Four: Absolutely no lights."
Finally, he held up his thumb. "Five: We ration everything. Food's scarce now. Only eat what we must." The weight of the rules hung heavy in the cool, still air.
Joy swallowed, the sound loud in the silence. She gave a small, decisive nod. "Okay," she whispered, her voice thin but firm.
"Good," Elias said, standing. "Now, eat." He led her to the chipped kitchen table, its cold surface smooth under his palms.
Joy climbed onto a chair, her small feet dangling, waiting patiently while shadows deepened in the corners of the room.
Elias retrieved the dented cans from his pack, the metal cool against his fingers. He opened one of the beans at the counter.
He placed the open can in front of Joy with a spoon, then opened another for himself.
They ate in near-silence, the scrape of spoons against tin the only sound.
The last sliver of grey light vanished from the window cracks as they finished.
With full darkness came unnerving sounds from outside: distant scrabbling claws, an occasional guttural snarl carried on the night air.
Elias unrolled a thin futon onto the cold wooden floor near Joy's larger, salvaged mattress. He lay down, the hard floor pressing against his back, the rough futon fabric scratchy.
Joy burrowed under a thin blanket on the mattress.
Then, a low, distant vibration began, humming up through the floorboards and into Elias's bones.
It deepened into a resonant, mournful groan – the whale-like dirge of the headless giant. The sound echoed across the ruined city, vibrating in their chests.
A powerful tremor followed, rattling the walls. The vibrations intensified, shaking the floor beneath them.
The giant's mournful cry grew louder and unmistakably closer.
Joy whimpered, a small, terrified sound. Elias could hear her trembling in the dark. "Big bro?" Her voice was a thin thread of fear. "Can you... Can you sleep with me tonight?"
Elias hesitated, the instinct for distance warring with the raw terror in her voice. Outside, another thunderous thud shook the house, rattling the boarded windows.
The giant was moving, and it was coming their way.
"Alright," he said, pushing himself up. He crossed the cold floor and settled onto the edge of the mattress.
Joy immediately pressed her small, shivering body against his side, seeking warmth and safety.
He lay rigidly, staring into the suffocating darkness, every nerve screaming as the earth-shaking footsteps and the unearthly wail drew nearer, shaking the very foundations of their fragile refuge.
He knew what was approaching: the headless giant, a walking mountain of destruction.