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THE LOST : After The End

In a post-apocalyptic world, you'll find four main types of people. Those who fight with all their might are "the hunters." The ones who leech and exploit others are "the pests." The predators, who see everyone as prey. And lastly, we have "the survivors," the resilient ones who never give up. Everyone often fits into one category, but it's hard to determine which one Maya falls into. She's not exactly a fighter, considering leaving her room was a chore even before the apocalypse. A predator? No way—she's always been a pushover. You might think she's a survivor, but that's laughable. She'd rather die from starvation than resort to scavenging. So, how should we categorize her? leeche? Nope. Perhaps a new category is needed: "The Lost"—those struggling to find their place in a shattered world."

Donna_Sheldon · Sci-fi
Not enough ratings
37 Chs

CHAPTER 24

I kept running.

My breaths came in ragged gasps as my knees gave out, sending me crashing to the ground with a bone-jarring thud.

I stayed on the ground, barely conscious, my head lolling to the side as the pain in my leg throbbed with every heartbeat. I was starting to give up trying to stay awake, the world spinning too much to focus on anything other than the smoke-filled sky above me.

Then I heard it.

A shout. Not a groan, not the low growl of the undead, but a human voice cutting through the chaos.

"Get up!"

My head jerked toward the sound, and my breath hitched.

Alex.

He was running straight toward me, machete in hand, swinging it at anything that got too close. His face was set in a scowl, the kind that screamed frustration rather than concern. Typical Alex.