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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 "the hunters." The ones who leech and exploit others "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 · Ciencia y ficción
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41 Chs

CHAPTER 17

I blinked, shocked. "What?"

Just then, Pastor walked by, his gaze soft and kind as he looked our way. "Is everything alright over here?"

Alex's expression hardened, his voice a perfect mask of politeness as he nodded. "Yeah, everything's fine."

The pastor gave a small smile. "Good, good. Rest easy here, my children. You're safe."

Alex gave the slightest incline of his head, waiting for Pastor to leave before muttering under his breath, "Yeah, sure we are."

As the evening wore on, I noticed him growing tenser, his eyes fixed on the door, on every person who walked past us. I heaved a sigh, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling that had settled in the pit of my stomach.

But I couldn't.

"No," I said, hugging my knees closer to my chest. My voice was barely a whisper, but I made sure he heard it. "I'm not leaving."