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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 · Ficção Científica

Classificações insuficientes

80 Chs

CHAPTER 35

The air felt heavier as we left George's compound behind. It wasn't just the humidity or the heat; it was the weight of everything George had told us. The sea port. A supposed safe zone. It sounded like a fairy tale, too good to be true, but what choice did we have? At least it was a direction, a plan, something to cling to in this godforsaken mess.

Alex walked ahead of me, his pace steady and deliberate, the map crumpled in his hand. I tried to match his stride, but my legs ached, and my steps were uneven. The wound on my leg was throbbing again, each step a painful reminder of how close I had come to not making it this far.

"You're falling behind," Alex said without looking back. His voice was flat, but I could hear the edge of impatience.

"I'm trying," I muttered. My breath came in short, ragged gasps. The tranquilizer from before might have worn off, but exhaustion had set in like a lead weight. Every muscle in my body screamed for rest.

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