Nobody remembers how the world ended. Those who do, don’t care. Whispers of wars, monsters, cosmic events and other potential causes have swirled for decades. When every day is a struggle to survive, the cause ceased to matter to the average person.

On this day, years later, all Ette could do was try to breathe. Just survive, she’d tell herself over and over again as the hunger pangs hit her like bricks. She’d been alone for days, and starving for just as long.

Ette was a woman with a scrawny frame even when she had been squarely fed. With prominent collar bones and tall legs, she was more often than not teased for being lanky. Her hair was jet black and parted in the middle, and it cascaded down past her shoulders in straight locks that ended just after her flat chest.

Her warm brown cheekbones sat high and prominent under dark eyes, with thick lips centered above her strong chin and under an almost-grecian nose.

When Ette awoke those few days ago to her camp empty and her brother missing, she knew only one thing: that she had to keep moving. As a matter of fact, Ette knew very little about the world she was stuck trying to navigate on her lonesome.

She knew that it was dangerous, and that people were as likely to kill you as the ravenous wildlife. At least, that was what her brother, Kaneo, had told her before they’d made the rash decision to leave their childhood home.

But with Kaneo gone, and no sign of him or the little supplies they had packed nearby, Ette mustered up her courage and made her way north. She remembered the story a traveller had relayed to them back home; one of a bustling city with walls taller than ten stacked houses, to keep the dangers of the outside world at bay. Kaneo had suggested they head there and look for it, even if Ette herself didn’t believe it existed.

A week into their journey, she had no choice but to hope that she was wrong and that it did in fact exist. She had no other plan, and no other ideas. Ette had managed to keep her directional bearing, at least she thought she did, as she dragged herself through the rural plains and empty streets of towns once lived in.

This particular town was nothing like what she’d grown up in. Ette and her family had lived near a large lake that was surrounded by tall pines, and each house had been built with those very logs. This town had roads of gravel and houses of many different styles. Shingle roofs, many of which had caved in over the decades, sat over top of vinyl slats that covered up the exterior walls. These houses were often far apart, separated by large patches of land with derelict farming equipment and decaying vehicles scattered throughout.

Although quite foreign, this town gave Ette a feeling of solace. Finally, she’d found shelter, and perhaps more. She picked a house and walked the path to the front steps, eyeing the wooden slats that had been hammered across the front door. Whether this was to keep something out or something in, Ette didn’t care. She was dizzy and exhausted, and her stomach felt so hollow she worried she’d topple in half before she could catch herself.

Ette stuck her fingers under the planks and yanked them back with all her strength, and when it popped back in her direction she was filled with a sense of triumph before she went for the next one. With each removed, she gripped the cold metal knob and twisted it open. The door creaked loudly, and seemed to get wedged in place just a meer foot ajar, leaving Ette to squeeze her way into the domicile.

What greeted her was a large amount of dust floating in a cluttered main room. Behind the door, furniture had been piled up to keep it shut, which Ette promptly took as a sign to close it behind her. She tiptoed forward, and into a kitchen with faded yellow cabinets half yanked open. On one counter she saw several tin cans piled up, and carefully began to rifle through them. As expected, each one had been cut open and contents consumed, and Ette closed her eyes in disappointment.

She turned to the kitchen sink, and gripped the handle on the rusted faucet tightly before twisting it open. A tiny, singular drop of water came out and landed in the grimy sink below, once again dashing Ette’s hopes. She rested her hands on the edges of the sink and took a deep breath, trying to collect herself and her thoughts. There are other places to check, she reminded herself. Ette swallowed the dryness in her throat away, and made her way into the next room.

Majority of the furniture around this room had been piled up around the fireplace, seemingly to obscure it from prying eyes, and Ette took that as a sign that maybe whoever had done that was hiding something. She came around the sides of it, and crouched down to peer underneath it all. She could see the dark, vague shapes of something under there, and was once again hopeful.

As she tried to pull the pieces away, Ette could hear a voice scratching at the back of her head that didn’t quite belong to her, but she was focused only on identifying just what she’d found. She yanked back the old end tables with a little too much enthusiasm, and they toppled behind her with a couple loud bangs against the hardwood floors.

What she had revealed was the remains of someone else. Their body was wrapped up tightly in a blanket, and the smell came and hit Ette’s nostrils in one large gust. She staggered back and covered her nose with her arm, trying not to cough at the stench. Beside the body itself sat a ragged duffel bag, the strap of which was still firmly in the hands of the deceased.

Ette gulped back her disgust and held her breath, psyching herself up to check the bag for supplies. She reached forward, but froze in her spot when she came to a dawning realization: that earlier voice was not in her head, and neither were the footsteps briskly headed her way.

***

“What exactly are we looking for again?” Mya questioned the group she was with.

She was nore more than five foot four inches, with a heart shaped face and wide eyes. Her dark hair was rather thick, and so Mya had resolved to tie it up in a knot behind her head for the outdoorsy trip.

She had recently turned twenty-eight, but if someone didn’t already know that, they’d assumed based on her soft cheeks and smooth olive skin that she was barely in her twenties at all.

Three of them had been sent out on a scouting trip to gather supplies and even hunt for a little game. Mya was brought along for two reasons: she could spot the specific medical supplies they’d run low on, and she’d been a bit stir crazy back at the settlement. Eva was here simply because scouting was her job, next to hunting. With a bow strapped to her back and boots dirtier than anyone else's, she knew where they were going better than either Mya or Ofelia could guess.

“I need more steel.” Ofelia answered her, while briskly walking ahead. “We should find plenty of scrap metals around the farmland.”

Ofelia had a much more mature presence, both due to her age and because of the way she carried herself. With strong round cheekbones and a wide nose, Ofelia had the weathered eyes of someone with more wisdom than any who looked into them.

Eva was scouting even farther ahead, seemingly oblivious to those following her lead. She knew that Ofelia could take care of herself easily, and she could even take care of all three of them if prompted to. Mya however, felt a little lost. Where the others had more experience out in the world, she had remarkably little.

She had grown up an only child with only her parents around her for most of her life, and they had kept it that way. Unfortunately for Mya, she was left tending to her mother’s regular bouts of illness since she was old enough to hold a needle and thread. Her father had disappeared while out when she was twelve, and Mya had to take charge of the household care completely while he was presumed dead.

When she was sixteen, her mother fell ill with a sickness that she would not recover from. This left Mya with little option but to venture forth and try and find someplace else for herself to live, which led to a trading settlement she’d heard of from her father.

This settlement was known as Hillcrest, and was where Ofelia was a prominent figure. Mya was welcomed with open arms into their ranks, and with her history of medicinal knowledge, she was promptly given a job as the resident physician and rarely left Hillcrest for the next twelve years.

Now she was brought along on a run to the farmland Eva had previously scouted and declared relatively safe, knowing that she may be able to repurpose some of the livestock supplies if they found any in decent condition.

They had come up on the small dirt road base town in the last hour, and had followed Eva’s directions to the fields themselves. Eventually, the three had found a surprisingly still intact barn with it’s doors half-open, and eagerly made their way in. Inside were several box stalls that had seemed to house horses many years ago, and Mya quickly went to work on the supply cabinets on the far wall.

Ofelia had stayed outside, and was inspecting a rather rusty hay baler for its metal parts to see what she could salvage. Eva was left to look over the leftover equine equipment and keep an ear out for any potential dangers that may arise.

Those very dangers suddenly seemed rather close, as the sounds of a struggle tickled at Eva’s eardrums. She could hear them clearly, but not loudly, and guessed that whatever was going on was in one of the neighbouring buildings. It didn’t matter much to Eva though, as they were here for one job and interfering would be more likely to get them killed than anything else- and she preferred to stay very much alive.

The problem was that that struggle, with thuds accompanied by screams, seemed to be getting louder. Loud enough, in fact, that Ofelia had paused her inspection of the baler and came into the barn with a concerned look on her face and her strong arms crossed over her chest. Mya looked up from the vials she had been trying to read the worn labels of, and read Ofelia’s expression quite quickly. She shoved each of the vials that still contained any drop of liquid into her pack, and reached for the sawed off shotgun she’d left resting against a box stall’s wall.

As Mya opened the barrel and confirmed that it had two shells in place, she finally heard the struggle the others had not alerted her to. As a matter of fact, she’d heard two clear words ring out: please help.

Without thinking, Mya had beelined towards the noise and exited the barn in a hasty sprint. Ofelia chased after her begrudgingly knowing that whatever it was, was something Mya could not face alone. Eva heard the kick of the dirt below their feet as they left, and let out a deep sigh as she readied her bow and followed after them.

***

Back inside that old house, Ette was thrown forcibly across the room and she let out one more desperate cry for help- but it came out more as a whimper. Warm blood ran down from her nose and she could taste the sticky copper in her mouth, and her spine ached from the edge of the door frame she had hit.

She looked up to her attackers through watering eyes: two men with fire in their eyes and blunt weapons brandished.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” The taller of the two warned her as he came towards her, rebar held high over his head and ready to strike.

Ette closed her eyes as tight as she could, hoping that it would somehow ease the pain from the oncoming blow, but it never came. Instead she heard her attacker cry out, and opened her eyes to see a wooden arrow sticking straight out of his left shoulder, and he dropped the rebar to the floor in surprise.

Through the doorway, a woman with dark skin and box braids swinging in the air burst through. She had a rather large sledgehammer at the ready, and the attacker with the arrow still in his shoulder bared his teeth at her like an animal. He jumped up and charged forward, only to have his skull meet with the head of her hammer.

The crack of his skull made Ette’s blood run cold, and she closed her eyes once more as if to wish away a bad dream. She could hear the sounds of the fight before her, but could only feel how exhausted and dizzy she was from both the hunger and the attack- and Ette began to black out.

Ette’s eyes fluttered open several times throughout the night, but not nearly open enough to render her fully awake. She could only process about two things: that she was now under the starry skies and that she was quite cold.

Mya sat near Ette’s semi-conscious body, and had gently checked her wounds while she slept. Her diagnosis was a couple broken ribs and a busted nose, on top of mild dehydration and a touch of malnutrition. Without intervention, the prognosis was not favourable. Mya counted herself lucky to have found her when she did- and that she’d been able to not only intervene, but to help her out a little.

Ofelia had been setting up a small fire and brought out some dried bread they had packed along with them. Mya rose to her feet and joined her at the fire, seeing Ofelia’s displeased eyes lit up in the orange light.

She didn’t have to say anything to know that Ofelia wasn’t happy with her, but she also didn’t need to ask her permission.

“I wasn’t going to leave her there.” Mya stated flatly, before her eyes dropped to Ofelia’s bruised and bloody knuckles.

Ofelia simply sighed and nodded. “Eva is going to finish the run on her own, she took off a few minutes ago.”

Mya raised her brows in surprise as she reached out for Ofelia’s injured fist, which she promptly let the doctor inspect.

“Is that the safest idea?” Mya asked as she pulled Ofelia’s hand closer to the light.

“She may be a kid, but she knows what she’s doing.” Ofelia chuckled a little at her worried reaction.

Mya nodded quietly and then she caught the sound of Ette stirring awake a few feet away. She quickly dropped Ofelia’s hand, and in return was handed a piece of the warm bread. Ofelia nodded in the direction of her newest charge, and Mya grabbed her own water flask from her pack and left the fireside. Ofelia flexed her fingers slowly and winced a little at the pain, but knew that Mya would not have left if there was any real issue.

Mya knelt slowly down beside Ette and put a gentle hand on her back to help her sit up. Ette’s brown eyes were full of fear as they darted around her surroundings. It seemed that every bone in her body ached, and her head was still incredibly heavy. When her eyes finally focused on Mya’s soft face in front of her, they trailed down to her hand extended with the food in her open palm.

Mya nodded encouragingly, and Ette carefully took it from her hands. She was still cautious, but the warmth and the smell of the bread hit her nose and sent a wave of desperation over her- and she sunk her teeth into it.

To Ette, this was the best thing she’d ever tasted in her entire life. Even though it was dry and mostly tasteless, she devoured each bite with vigor. Mya tried to suppress her smile at the sight, and offered the flask of water that Ette happily took and brought to her lips between bites.

“Try not to choke.” Mya warned her, pulling Ette from her moment of euphoria and making her pause.

She realized now that, although these people had seemed to have saved her, Ette did not know their intentions nor did she know their sincerity. Her anxiety of the unknown washed over her, and her heart began to thud violently in her ribcage.

Mya saw her breathing quicken, and pushed herself a few feet away from Ette to give her some space.

“You’re alright,” She said softly. “You’re safe. My name’s Mya.”

Ette looked up to Ofelia at the fire and recognized her as her saviour, and she then made eye contact with Mya. She gulped her last bite of food down her throat, and took a deep breath.

“Where are you taking me?” Her voice came out hoarse and rough, but quiet under her breath.

Mya smiled softly.

“We’re going home.”