The air in Salvation tasted bad, like rust and sadness. Maybe it was from the broken Sky-Docks above, which looked like metal bones in the dark sky. Or maybe it was just the taste of our own hopelessness that we couldn't get rid of.
"See anything, Jules?" Bale asked. His voice sounded way too happy, and it broke the silence.
He was playing with his old, rusty crossbow, looking all around in the bushes like he was really hungry. He always got nervous around me and tried to get me to look at him. I ignored it, just like I always did.
I looked through the scope of my dad's shotgun, my eyes straining.
The forest was strange and ruined. The plants were mutated, and pieces of technology were broken all around. Big, glowing mushrooms lit the place with a weird light, showing old, rusted hovercars stuck in the roots of the trees.
We hunted here to survive, but it always reminded us of how much we had lost.
"Just shadows, Bale. Relax," I said, not even glancing away from the scope. "You're acting like you're about to ask someone to marry you." I could hear him choke on his words behind me. It almost made me laugh, but the situation was too serious.
We'd been tracking this boar for hours. Wildboar meat was a rare delicacy these days, a treasure worth fighting for. And believe me, in Salvation, we were always fighting for something.
Suddenly, everything shook. A loud, rough noise like a snorting animal came from the trees.
"Boar!" Bale hissed, his voice sharp with alarm. "A big one!" He immediately ducked down.
I dropped down beside him, the shotgun heavy and familiar in my hands. Dad always said this gun was my birthright, my protector. Now, it was all that stood between me and starvation.
A huge, scarred boar with rusty tusks ran out of the bushes. It was very angry and charged straight ahead.
Bale shouted "Now, Jules!" as he struggled to use his crossbow.
Without a second thought, I lined up the shot. I pulled the trigger, and the gun blast echoed incredibly loudly through the woods.
The boar lurched, a large wound suddenly appearing on its side. It let out a piercing cry, but the sound was quickly cut short as it collapsed to the earth, lifeless.
I was so relieved, but then I felt guilty. This wasn't just about getting food; it was about surviving. And in Salvation, surviving always came at a high price.
"Nice shot, Jules! You saved our bacon...or rather, boar meat!" Bale exclaimed. He grinned, eyes glued to the fallen boar.
We butchered the boar, our hands slick with blood and dirt. The smell of blood filled the air, hinting at a good meal to come.
While we pulled the heavy dead animal back to our town, Salvation, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. The forest was too quiet, the shadows too deep.
Salvation was supposed to be a sanctuary. The valley location, the SilentRiver, and the surrounding forests kept it relatively safe during the Collapse. But even though we survived physically, the Collapse had taken something more valuable: our humanity.
When the Sky-Docks fell, when the nanobots turned toxic and the cities were destroyed, The people who survived ran to Salvation, hoping for a better life. But life in Salvation was hard. There wasn't enough of anything. Clean water was a luxury. Food was a weapon. And trust? Trust was a forgotten relic of a bygone era.
We arrived at the outskirts of Salvation right at sunset, with the last sliver of sunlight fading away. It wasn't much – just a collection of rough shacks and metal scraps inside a broken-down wall. The air smelled terrible, like burning garbage and you could almost taste the bitter feelings of the people who lived there.
That's when we saw him.
We found Wilbur, old Milton's grandson, lying on the dead grass. His eyes were blank, staring up at the dark sky as if accusing it of something. A jagged knife was sticking out of his chest, and the handle was red with blood.
The boar forgotten, we rushed forward, but it was too late. Wilbur was dead.
The silence that followed was more terrifying than any scream. Then, the whispers started. Accusations flew like poisoned darts. Old wounds reopened. Mistrust took root.
"He was stealing water rations!"
"I saw him sneaking around Milton's garden!"
"He probably knew too much!"
The whispers quickly turned into shouts, the shouts into threats. Soon, the villagers were pointing fingers, their faces full of hate and fear.
I looked at Bale. His face was pale, his hand trembling as he gripped his crossbow. He avoided my gaze.
"Who did this?" I demanded, my voice commanded attention.
No one answered.
Things got really bad in the village over the next few days. Everyone was scared and suspicious. They locked their doors, got out their knives, and hid their food. And everywhere, there was the unspoken question: Who was next?
I tried to reason with them, to remind them that we were all in this together. My warnings were ignored. Salvation had become a viper pit, and we were all waiting to be bitten.
Late one day, I found Bale curled up in a corner of our small home. He looked very scared, his eyes wide with fear.
"Jules, I… I saw something," he had trouble speaking, and his voice was very low.
"What did you see?" I asked, grabbing my shotgun.
He hesitated and looked around the room. "I… I saw Milton sneaking away from the green the night Wilbur died. He was covered in blood."
Old man Milton. The village elder. Respected, feared, but also rumored to be ruthless.
"Are you sure?" I asked, my grip tightening on the shotgun.
He nodded, the fear was plain to see on his face. "I swear, Jules. I swear."
I knew what I had to do.
I found Milton in his garden, trying to salvage his dying vegetables. He looked up as I approached, his eyes cold and calculating.
"Jules," he said, his voice raspy. "What brings you here?"
"Wilbur," I said, my voice flat. "Bale saw you. He saw you with the knife."
Milton didn't flinch. "That boy was a thief. He was poisoning our water supply."
"So you killed him?" I asked, my finger on the trigger.
He shrugged. "Sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good."
"You killed your own grandson," I spat out, my voice full of hate.
I lifted the shotgun, the chill of the metal biting into my skin. It was heavy, not just in my hands, but with the burden of all the suffering in Salvation.
Looking at Milton, I spoke, "You talk about sacrifices for the greater good, Milton. Well, here's another one."
Fear showed on his face, his usual tough act disappeared. "Jules, no! I… I can explain…"
"That's probably the last thing Wilbur said to you." I stated.
I pulled the trigger.
The shotgun went off, and Milton was hit. He dropped to the ground, blood pooling around him and his precious vegetables.
I didn't feel anything. No remorse, no satisfaction. Just emptiness. That's all there was, inside and out, like the wasteland itself.
The next day, Bale was gone. Vanished without a trace.
I searched for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Had he run? Had someone silenced him? Or had he lied to me, manipulating me into eliminating Milton, his only rival for power?
I never found out.
Salvation was somewhat back to normal, but people were afraid and didn't trust each other. I became the new protector, the one with the shotgun. But I knew it wouldn't last.
In Salvation, the true evil weren't outside, in the destroyed world. It was within ourselves. Our fear and lack of faith in each other, and that made us do terrible things. We were stuck in a loop of violence and couldn't stop it.
I'm still out here, guarding the borders of our settlement, Salvation, shotgun in hand, waiting for the next threat, waiting for the next betrayal.
And I wonder, sometimes, if the real enemy isn't the wasteland around us, but the wasteland within. Maybe, we were always doomed, not by the Collapse, but by ourselves. Maybe the real apocalypse wasn't the end of the world, but the end of humanity.
And maybe that's a truth we're all still running from.