1 One

Tom woke up to the noises leaking from the crowded market street. He shifted in his bed and looked at the sunlight gently sifting through the windows. After a moment's meditation, he reached for his wristwatch kept on the floor beside the bed. Ten thirty. It seemed to be a relatively peaceful morning. Tom closed his eyes to relish the moment of peace.

"Why're you still in Bed? Do you want to get beaten the first thing in the morning?" roared a voice.

So much for the peaceful morning.

The person talking to Tom was, in fact, Leeper- the closest thing Tom had to a friend in the godforsaken city. He was occasionally commanding and vain, but had it not been for him Tom would not have survived in this city of rubble and filth. Leeper's muscular built and heavy voice was intimidating to one and all and he occasionally saved Tom from a good beating in those unlawful streets. Tom considered him as the perfect adaptation to the prevailing circumstances.

"Give me a moment", Tom replied as he scrambled out of his bed and quickly got dressed. A few moments later, Tom and Leeper emerged from a forlorn house at the edge of the weary street. Leeper's muscular body almost eclipsed Tom's lanky frame. A sense of helplessness overcame Tom as he watched the expanse of ruins before his eyes.

Two years of war. It just took two years of war to turn the once beautiful and iconic modern city to the caveman's paradise. There was no government, no rules and more importantly no food. Survival was a difficult thing here and the disappearance of people a daily phenomenon. Sometimes Tom marvelled at his own survival, but he quickly reminded his own self that all good rules had their exceptions.

Tom and Leeper were headed for the open ground, where the local gang of the neighbourhood assembled. Having no intention of getting beat again, Tom fled the second Leeper stopped to bark orders at someone on the streets.