The generator was dead.
Mizuki stood in the hallway, crouched over the fuse box with a screwdriver in one hand and a flashlight clenched between her teeth. I could tell from her face jaw stiff, brows drawn that there wasn't anything left to fix.
She flipped the breaker one last time. Nothing.
"It's gone," she said flatly.
"Burned out?" I asked.
"Probably just old," she muttered, pulling back from the wall. "Junk like this wasn't made to last forever. Not after all this."ย
She tossed the screwdriver into a bin. "Lucky it lasted this long."
She stood up and walked straight to the guest room. She opened the door of her room, slipped inside, and shut it softly behind her.
Then I heard it, click. Lock turning.
She never locked it during the day.
I stared at the door for a few seconds, then turned and walked away. She was hiding something. Maybe someone. Probably had been for a while. The transmitter she kept tucked under her cot hadn't worked in weeks, but she still whispered into it some nights, like someone might still answer.
And now the generator was gone. Whatever hope she was clinging to had just gone dark.
๐ ๐๐ ๐ซ
The fire barrel in the main room was burning low. The guys were already halfway packed.
Vale was tightening his vest straps, the duct-taped kind that only half fit him anymore. Zai sat on the floor with a box of ammo in his lap, counting bullets that didn't match any of our guns. Takeshi leaned against the window frame, glancing over a hand-drawn map of the nearby sectors.
They looked up when I stepped in, but didn't stop what they were doing.
I cleared my throat.
"There's a place," I said, a little too quiet. "Out east. Suburbs. My uncle lived there."
Vale didn't even stop adjusting his strap.
"He and his partner ran a grocery store out of their garage. They stockpiled a lot, before any of this even started. Food, fuel. They were survivalist types."
No one responded.
I forced myself to keep going. "They might've survived. And if not the supplies might still be there."
Zai sighed. "So we're chasing your uncle's pantry now?"
Takeshi didn't look up from the map.
Vale chuckled under his breath. "Why would we listen to you, kid? You barely talk most days."
"I'm just saying it's an option," I muttered.
"Well, here's our option," Vale said, standing fully. "We go to the city. We find out why it's quiet. Why the streets are empty, why people aren't running anymore. We find the answer. If there is one."
Zai stood too, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Maybe next time you suggest something when we're not about to leave."
They all moved around me, stepping past, brushing by. I stood there like I wasn't even part of the group. Again.
๐ ๐๐ ๐ซ
I sighed and walked toward the back room.
The old man sat in the far corner, hunched but awake and mute.
His dog Mina was curled at his feet, tail thumping once when I stepped in. The old man patted its head slowly, fingers gentle, like he'd done it a thousand times before.
I pulled out a scrap of dried meat and knelt to feed the dog. It sniffed, took the food cautiously, then looked up at me with those big, quiet eyes.
It made me smile. Cute.
Even now when the world had gone to hell seeing a little creature eat like that made something in my chest loosen. Just for a second.
"Lucky you've got him," I said to the old man.
He didn't answer, of course but he watched me.
"I tried to speak up," I muttered. "Tried to help."
The dog finished chewing and curled up again, content.
"They don't listen," I said. "I guess when you're the youngest, when you're not strong, your words don't matter."
The old man didn't blink.
๐ ๐๐ ๐ซ
I stayed in the room with the old man a while longer. He didn't talk, couldn't but it didn't feel like silence, not really. The dog rested against his leg, calm, like it knew there was nothing left outside to be afraid of.ย
I heard footsteps behind me.
I looked back, expecting Vale or Zai, maybe to tell me to stop wasting food. But it was Mizuki.
She stood in the doorway, arms folded, expression unreadable. Her eyes flicked to the old man, then to the dog, then to me.
"You're good with them," she said.
I blinked. I didn't expect her to say anything let alone that.
"I guess," I said. "They don't talk back."
She didn't laugh, but something about the corner of her mouth moved. Almost a smile?
"They're leaving in fifteen," she said. "Vale and the others. City run. You knew that."
"Yeah."
She looked at me for a long second.
"You're staying."
I sat up straighter. "I figured."
"Not asking. Just telling." She stepped into the room, just a little. Her boots were scuffed, muddy, dried blood crusted near the sole. "You'll watch the house. The old man. Keep the fire going. Don't open the door for anyone."
I didn't answer right away.
Why me?
She must've read the question on my face.
"They won't listen to you," she said. Not cruel. "But you'll do it anyway."
That stung more than it should have. I looked down at the dog, who was now asleep at the old man's feet.
"Why not Zai?"
"He's going," she said simply. "We need his eyes."
"And you?" I asked.
She tilted her head. "Someone's gotta pack their gear."
I nodded. "I'll take care of the place."
She lingered at the door another moment, then added, "You're not as invisible as you think."
Then she was gone.
I sat there, quiet. The old man blinked slowly, still watching me like he understood.
Maybe he did.
I scratched the dog's head and leaned back against the wall.
Not invisible, huh?
Funny how people only noticed me when there was no one else left.
After Mizuki left, I stayed sitting with the old man for a while.
Eventually, I stood and did what she said. Checked the windows. The boards held, but the air felt thinner. Outside, the trees shook in the wind. Leaves scattered across the lawn like scraps of skin peeling off the world.
Back in the kitchen, I grabbed one of the old man's cans, the ones he brought yesterday. I brought it to him in the back room.
"You okay eating your own stuff?"
He nodded.ย
Then I went upstairs.
The hallway creaked under my steps. I checked each room. It was quiet.
Then I stopped in front of her door.
Mizuki's.
Always locked. Always off-limits.
I reached for the knob.
Still locked but the screws on the hinges were loose. I'd noticed it before.
And now I was alone.
I looked back down the stairs.
No one to stop me.
She said to take care of the house.
So maybe it was time to see what she didn't want me taking care of.