The World Was Full of Traps

What little light there was filtered through clouds of gray and green haze, remnants of the acidic rain that had passed during the night. Small puddles pooled along the cracked, crumbling streets, releasing thin tendrils of steam that carried a sharp, chemical stench. 

As she shifted him to prepare him for the day ahead, he whined softly, a fussy, half-asleep murmur. "Mama, no…too cold," he whimpered, squirming against her, his small fists rubbing sleepily at his eyes.

"Shhh, it's okay, Leo," she whispered, tightening her hold around him, fingers brushing soothingly over his messy curls. "We have to go, sweetheart. Just a little longer, okay?"

Her voice was gentle, but her eyes flicked constantly to the store's shattered windows and the empty streets beyond, her entire being focused to any movement or sound. She could feel Leo's arms slip around her neck, clutching her tightly as she strapped him to her chest.

Zara sighed, a pang of guilt twisting in her chest. She was careful, securing him as gently as she could, hoping he'd drift back to sleep for just a little longer.

"Mmm, Mama… I don't wanna move," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

"I know, sweetie," she whispered, her fingers brushing his messy hair as she tightened the straps. "Just hold on tight, okay? We have to go now, but I'll let you sleep a little more on the way."

He clung to her with tiny hands, his head nestling into the crook of her neck. She could feel his warm breaths against her collarbone.

Zara grabbed her backpack, adjusting it over her shoulders, then gently cradled Leo, doing her best to shield him from the cold air as they started their trek.

They had to leave before the light fully crept over the city. She knew that when it did, so would the dangers.

As they stepped out into the dawn, Zara's senses sharpened, and her pace slowed. She stood at the edge of a crumbling storefront, her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the remains of a city she barely recognized anymore.

Ahead, the streets lay in ruin—buildings slumped against each other, their frames gutted and rusted, broken windows reflecting the pale dawn.

Whole sections of the road had been eaten away, leaving gaping pits where the acid had worn down to the old infrastructure below. Rubble was strewn across her path making it harder for her to navigate.

Zara carefully skirted around puddles of acid, crumbling buildings and zombies as she made her way into the heart of City B.

She glanced back down at Leo, whose eyes were drifting open, his curiosity awakened by the strange, steaming puddles scattered across the street.

"Mama," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "Why is the ground…fizzy?"

Zara thought for a moment, adjusting him to settle his weight and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "The rain… it's not like the rain we used to know, baby. It hurts the ground. It hurts people, too. That's why we can't touch it. You remember?"

Leo nodded, though his eyes remained wide, glancing warily at the nearest puddle. "But why does it make that noise?"

"It's… because it's very sick," she said, keeping her voice low and soft, though every nerve in her body was tensed for movement, eyes scanning around for the tiniest hint of danger. "And that's why we have to keep moving, all right? You'll see, I'll keep us safe."

He held onto her tighter, his small hands clutching her jacket, and Zara felt a pang deep inside—a fear that no matter how fast, how careful she was, safety was a promise she could never truly make.

She pulled herself up and continued, moving along the shattered sidewalk, every sound amplified in her mind—the scuff of her boots, the muffled cries of distant creatures, the faint drip of acidic water falling from above. She kept her eyes sharp, searching the shadows and empty windows for any sign of movement.

As the sun rose, so did her hope that they'd be able to make headway and actually get something done. She couldn't help but notice the increase in signs of human activities like remnants of campfires, melted camping gear, no doubt ruined by the acidic rain.

By midday, Zara found a sheltered alcove in the remains of an old office building. They hadn't come across any other survivors, but the journey had been exhausting, and she needed a place to rest.

She crouched down and carefully lifted Leo off her chest, letting him stretch his legs as she unwrapped a few scraps of food from her backpack.

The smells around them were thick and sour—decay, damp mold, and a faint trace of rot in the air that turned her stomach. Yet she pushed past it, focusing on calming Leo and refueling for what was ahead.

"Mama, I'm hungry," Leo said, his voice a soft, plaintive whine.

"Here, sweetheart," she murmured, handing him a small piece of stale bread. "Eat this slowly, okay? We don't have much."

Once Leo was settled, Zara scanned their surroundings, evaluating the safety of the location. She spotted a narrow gap between two broken walls, the perfect hiding spot for a child his size. She'd have to scout ahead, make sure the area was clear before bringing Leo any further into the heart of City B.

"Leo," she said softly, drawing his attention, her hand resting on his tiny shoulder. She knelt in front of him, bringing her face level with his, her expression serious but gentle.

"I need you to stay here for a little while, okay? Right in that spot." She pointed toward the gap, careful to make her voice reassuring. "You'll be safe there, just like we talked about."

"But why can't I go with you?" Leo's face twisted in a pout, a flicker of fear shadowing his wide, innocent eyes.

"Because Mama needs to check ahead first," she explained, her voice firm but tender. "There could be things up there… things that aren't safe for us yet. You remember what I taught you, right? Stay quiet, stay hidden, and don't come out until I come back."

Leo's lower lip wobbled, and she saw a hint of fear in his eyes. She softened, reaching into her backpack and pulling out a small, worn toy—his only one, a small, rubber dinosaur he'd clung to through everything. She pressed it into his hand, watching as his fingers closed around it with a little more confidence.

"You're so brave, baby," she murmured, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze. "Just keep Rex safe, okay? And I'll be back soon."

She hesitated, her mind screaming at her to take him with her, to keep him close, but as always, she knew the risk was greater that way.

She brushed her fingers through his hair, stealing one last look at him before rising to her feet and turning away.

Zara moved swiftly and quietly, slipping through the ruins as she retraced the symbols she had etched onto buildings and walls. Some were intact while others had been cleared from the acidic rain.

As she turned a corner, a sudden wave of dizziness hit. Her foresight ability kicked in—a split-second flash that showed her a figure lunging, grabbing her wrist, pulling her off balance.

She blinked, stumbling forward into something solid yet soft—a figure. Zara scrambled back, hand instinctively raising her bat, but the person held up his hands in a show of peace, a smirk sliding onto his face.

"Well, well. Wasn't expecting to run into a beauty out here," he drawled, his eyes raking over her in a way that made her skin crawl.

She clenched her jaw, her stance tense, every instinct screaming caution. "I don't have anything you want," she said, voice cold, masking her nerves.

"Easy there, sweetheart," he chuckled, though his gaze lingered too long on the weapon at her side.

"No need to be so unfriendly. It's rare to meet anyone these days. And even rarer to meet someone like you."

Zara said nothing, studying him, her gaze flicking to his hands, his belt, noting the bulge of a hidden weapon. His smile was too casual, his posture too relaxed. She could feel the tension coiling in her gut, warning her that his friendliness was nothing more than a trap.

"Are you here for the cache too?" He asked, taking a step forward. "What am I asking? That's why everyone is here. You should come with me to my group, we know where it is." He beamed at her.

"You're not listening to me," Zara said instead, taking a step back. "I don't need your help with anything, I'm completely fine."

"Maybe we can help each other," he continued, inching closer. "It's dangerous out here, and two heads are better than one."

Zara's fingers tightened around the bat, her mind calculating her escape route. She let him talk, studying his body language, the way his hand drifted ever so slightly toward his side, his gaze flicking past her, calculating. She tensed, the realization sinking in: he was planning something.

She had realised he was the one her foresight had warned her about so she had enough momentum to react when he lunged. She dodged just in time, slipping out of his reach and sprinting down the street.

She could hear his frustrated footsteps behind her, his curses filling the air as he struggled to keep up.

That's when another quick flash came. Her foresight ability flared, a sharp, clear picture cutting through her racing thoughts. A trap—a tangle of metal wires and broken glass set up ahead.

She could see it, the reflection of light off sharp edges, the subtle tension in the wires lain out. She had less than a second.

Without missing a beat, Zara shifted, veering sharply to the left and diving to the side. Her body twisted mid-air, narrowly avoiding a thick wire that would've tripped her. She hit the ground rolling, the sharp edges of concrete scraping her arms, but the pain was nothing compared to the rush of her heartbeat and the tension in her muscles.

Zara knew she had to lose him before she could return to Leo, before she led him back to the only precious thing she had left.

'Let's take a detour,' she thought to herself as she increased her speed.

She rounded a corner, the layout of the broken buildings etched into her memory like a map. But just as she took her next step, her body froze.

A cold, smooth barrel pressed against her forehead, and for a heartbeat, the world stopped.

A rifle.

Zara's breath caught in her throat as she lifted her gaze slowly from the gun's barrel to the figure standing before her.

The man holding the rifle was tall, his stance rigid, the rifle in his hands steady as he kept it aimed at her head. His features were sharp—unfamiliar, somehow—and his eyes gleamed with an intensity that felt both dangerous and…

"Don't. Move."