"Let's move out," Sergeant Frey commands, positioning her gun. The 20 or so of us Renegades nod curtly and run after her through Entrance Five, a steep and crumbling concrete stairwell. Extremely dim lightbulbs help to light the steps but barely.

It's been ten months since the beginning of World War IV, and Europe is hell-bent on taking land from the USA since President Sheops sold it to them. They simply won't negotiate. Period.

And as a result, all that's left of the USA is a destroyed country, a death toll, and a hazardous gray haze of air pollution. A worldwide ban on air strikes was established months ago, but the Europeans ignore it along with the rest of the world. The reason for war has evolved. It's no longer about preserving peace but getting land at all costs. And by all costs, every country in the world has been bombed at least once.

The Central Front's been the main battleground for a majority of the war. Stretching parallel from the Mississippi River on its western side, the world's best militaries plus some Renegades like Daniel are trying to push each other back. It was somehow known that the first military force that retreats to their respective coast loses. The Perimeter Powers are winning in that aspect, but in reality, death and destruction are the actual winners.

I follow my fellow Renegades up the steep staircase. Before long, we're all panting, but we keep moving. The early spring air chills my spine, but the running keeps me warm. Everyone is on a mission to gather food from the salvaged woods. Our underground shelter rations the imported bread and water from the Perimeters. But everyone's always hungry for fresh meat.

"Everyone knows their trails," Sergeant Frey announces at the mouth of the exit, "so don't kill more than two animals today. Make sure to gather any berries you can find, but don't eat them until they're tested for contamination in the shelter."

We all nod and give a "yes, sir" type of reply. Sergeant Frey nods her head and dismisses us to hunt. Our sergeant is pretty young to be a leader, so I respect her more so than other sergeants.

I adjust my sheath strap and brown hat before climbing the remaining concrete stairs. Gray haze commands the sky, making the sun ray's shallow and sad. Bird swoop around above me, chirping in their different voices. At least they're still alive. It's a good sign.

I relax my breathing and running pace, keeping my ear cocked for any out-of-place sounds. I leap over a fallen tree branch and continue my run. I've got about a five-mile trail to cover, giving me the most amount of traveling compared to the others.

With the cool woods around me, I pull at the collar of my jacket. Taking a deep breath of air, I refresh my lungs with fresh air. World War IV seems like it's lightyears away, but the harmless though reminds me of Daniel and my mom, my brothers, and my little sister. My dad, too. I miss them all so much, sometimes my chest feels like its ripping into two.

My vision blurs as tears threaten to push themselves free. I force myself to take another deep breath. Release it, I command myself, Don't cry. Be strong. I imagine all my pain into an invisible shape in front of me, and I cast it away high above the world with a glance upward. There. It's gone. I released it, and it's not coming back.

With another shaky breath, I focus on the clinking of my arrows and the soothing feeling of a bow in my hand. I jog a good two miles or so before returning to a walking pace. I don't even need a compass anymore because the route is written into my mind. I scout for berries with no luck, and I decide to shooting a bird or two instead.

I blend in with a nearby tree, my thin coat helping to defend my skin from the light wind. I reach my hand over my right shoulder and feel the tops of my arrows. I pull a single one out and load it into my downward-facing bow. Birds fly overhead, and I scan the ground for any animals. I spot a squirrel near the base of a tree. Bingo.

I ease my bow into its correct position: left hand firm on the smooth handle, right hand grasping the arrow underneath my chin, right elbow cocked upward. My body aligns with the target. I exhale quietly, aim, and release. The squirrel moved at the last second, lodging my arrow into its neck more than its head.

I walk closer to the animal and pull out my arrow. I push the carcass into a small burlap bag, looping it onto my sheath. Once I've finished the deed, I let out a relieved breath.

"Nice shot."

I bolt to my feet and fumble for an arrow. By the time I get my bow loaded, I've already identified who the voice belongs to.

"Vivian. Gosh, you scared me."

She laughs, walking over to me with her gun lazily pointing at the ground. "Oh, I can tell. You've got to work on loading that thing faster."

"Stick to your own route next time," mock-threaten, "and maybe I won't have to load it at all."

Vivian and I begin the trek back to the shelter, crunching through the dead leaves. Without warning, she turns away from the usual route.

"I found a few strawberry bushes about half a mile east of here," she explains.

"Strawberries?" I say, glancing in the direction of the shelter and back at her. "Let's go." I catch up with her, beginning our walk. Vivian and I talk lightly before keeping to our thoughts. We walk comfortably in silence, me with my hands in my coat pockets and Vivian with her left thumb hooked on her jean pocket. Birds chirp and winds blow softly. A gun sounds in the distance, but we don't pay much attention to it.

Vivian and I reach the plants rather quickly, kneeling to pick the fruit. My thoughts return to the war. We've both lost our spark of youth because of it, and it seems like the fighting is more childish than anything else. The mood in between us gradually shifts from peaceful to bitter.

"You know what I don't understand," Vivian says rhetorically. Anger seeps into her voice. "I don't understand the whole thing. We're just sitting here, waiting out some stupid war for no reason."

We drop the strawberries into her bag, and she tightens the drawstrings with a tough jerk. With a hand on the ground for stability, I rise to my feet.

Unexpectedly, I'm knocked onto my stomach by a tremor in the ground. The whole earth shakes frighteningly as I search in a panic for something to grab on. Ten fearful seconds pass as a tree nearby crashes to the ground. I watch in horror.

Just as quickly as it came, the rattling stops. My fearful eyes meet Vivian's calm ones. She gets up from the ground as if nothing happened.

"Earthquake," she declares bitterly. I use my arms to push myself off of my stomach and up to my feet.

"Earthquake," I repeats.

Vivian grabs her bag. "Let's get outta here. Frey will have a fit if we take too long."

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sorry for the slow update, but i really wanted to perfect this chapter. my birthday was the day after I updated this... so yay, MY BIRTHDAY!! whoop, whoop! a vote for this chapter would be a lovely gift :)

thank you soooo much for reading instability; this story wouldn't be as fun or amazing without your comments, feedback, and actual reading! i was originally going to end the book at chapter 28, but because of you guys i'm going to keep going! good stuff is coming up, my friends.