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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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81 Chs

CHAPTER 47

The pain in my leg was sharper now, but I forced myself to move, dragging my body toward the group of soldiers near the far wall. My heart hammered in my chest, each beat a reminder of what I had just seen in the bathroom.

One of the soldiers, a lieutenant by the looks of his insignia, stood with his arms crossed, his expression hard and unreadable. His presence alone screamed authority, and if anyone could take this seriously, it would be him.

"Excuse me," I rasped, my voice shaky as I limped closer. He turned, his gaze sweeping over me with a mix of curiosity and mild annoyance.

"What is it?" he asked, his tone clipped.

I hesitated, my mind racing with a thousand doubts. What if he didn't believe me? But I forced the thought aside and spoke quickly, urgency in my voice. "There's… there's an infected in here."

His brow furrowed, his gaze sharpening. "Infected? Are you sure?"

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