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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 38

We stayed like that for a while, the quiet stretching out as the heat of the day seeped into the building. The fever made everything feel distant, like I was watching the world through a foggy window. I leaned my head back against the wall, closing my eyes just for a moment.

"Don't fall asleep," Alex snapped, his voice cutting through the haze.

I jerked awake, blinking rapidly. "I wasn't—"

"Yes, you were," he said flatly. "You pass out now, and you're not waking up anytime soon."

I nodded, forcing myself to sit up straighter. The throbbing in my leg was relentless, each pulse of pain sharper than the last. But I bit my tongue and stayed quiet.

After some minutes, Alex stood abruptly.

"We're moving."

I blinked up at him, my body protesting even the thought of walking again. "Already?"