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#WEAKTOSTRONG #DARK #SURVIVAL #APOCALYPSE #TWISTED

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

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37 Chs

CHAPTER 31

The journey felt endless, the distant sun hanging stubbornly low in the sky as if mocking our exhaustion. My leg was throbbing with every step, each limp a cruel reminder that I was barely holding on. Alex, as usual, seemed to be made of stone, showing no signs of slowing down or caring that I was struggling to keep up.

We had been walking in silence for what felt like hours when he stopped abruptly, his finger pointing toward something far off in the horizon. "There," he said, his voice flat but firm.

I squinted, trying to make out what he was pointing at. At first, it looked like just another ruin, but as my eyes adjusted, I could see faint movement—figures, maybe? It was hard to tell from this distance.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice hoarse from the dry air and sheer exhaustion.

"That's where we're going," Alex replied, not looking at me.

"Why?" I pressed, though I already knew I wouldn't get much of an answer.

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