The grit crunched under my boots with every step. It wasn't sand, not really. More like pulverized concrete and bone, mixed with the dust that blew in from the endless wasteland.
The sun beat down, a cruel, unforgiving glare that reflected off the skeletal remains of skyscrapers clawing at the bleached sky. This was what we'd done. We'd choked this world until it gasped its last, green breath. Now, all that was left was this.
I pulled my scarf higher, shielding my face. Beside me, Leo, my little brother, coughed, his thin frame shuddering. "Are we there yet, Rye?" he wheezed, his voice raspy.
"Almost," I lied. We weren't close to the rumored Oasis – a place where water still flowed and food actually grew.
We were just... running. Running from the Scavengers, the worst kind of people left clinging to this broken Earth. They hunted for sport, for food, for anything they could steal. And we had something they wanted: our youth.
We'd been on the run ever since they raided our small, hidden settlement. I'd managed to get Leo out, but our parents… I swallowed, the memory a bitter poison in my throat.
The landscape was a tapestry of despair. Twisted metal frameworks of cars lay rusting in the sun. Patches of cracked earth revealed stubborn weeds, the only sign of life besides the occasional scrawny rat. It was in one of these rusted husks that we found temporary shelter for the night.
I rationed out the last of our water. Leo drank slowly, carefully, like it was liquid gold. I watched him, a gnawing fear twisting in my gut. We were running out of everything.
"Rye," he said, his voice small, "Do you think… do you think Mom and Dad are happy now?"
I squeezed his hand. "They're not hurting anymore, Leo. That's what matters."
I didn't sleep that night. The wind howled like a hungry ghost, and every rustle of debris sounded like approaching footsteps. The Scavengers were always out there, lurking.
The next day was worse. The sun was more brutal, the wasteland more desolate. Leo stumbled more often. Then, we saw them. Three figures silhouetted against the horizon, their rifles gleaming in the sun. Scavengers.
"Run, Leo, run!" I yelled, grabbing his hand and dragging him forward. We scrambled over piles of rubble, our lungs burning. They were faster, younger. They were gaining.
Then, I saw it – a gaping hole in the ground, a collapsed subway entrance. A desperate gamble. "Down here!" I shouted, pulling Leo into the darkness.
The air reeked of mildew and the musty scent of decay. We stumbled through the blackness, the sounds of the Scavengers above fading behind us. We kept going, deeper and deeper, until we were swallowed by the earth.
Finally, we found a small, relatively clear space. I collapsed against the cold, damp wall, gasping for breath. "We... we lost them," I managed to say.
Leo didn't respond. I turned and saw him staring at something, his eyes wide with wonder. I followed his gaze.
And there it was.
Not the Oasis, not a hidden spring. Something far more terrifying.
A flickering screen, powered by a generator humming softly in the corner. And on that screen, a live feed. A view from space. Earth. Green. Blue. Alive. Thriving.
And then, I saw the words scrolling across the bottom: "Project Noah: Re-seeding Program, Mars Colony Designation."
My heart slammed against my ribs. The realization was a hammer blow. They hadn't let the Earth die. They had just… left. Left us. The ones who hadn't made the cut. The ones deemed… expendable.
We weren't survivors. We were the forgotten. The discarded.
And then, the camera zoomed in. On us. On Leo. On me. And a new set of words flashed across the screen, chilling me to the bone:
"Observation Protocol: Assess Long-Term Effects of Environmental Collapse on Genetic Adaptation. Analyze Resource Acquisition Strategies Under Extreme Conditions."
We weren't forgotten. We were being studied. We were lab rats in a twisted experiment, designed to see just how low humanity would stoop to survive. They watched us kill each other for scraps, probably taking notes.
I looked at Leo, his innocent face illuminated by the screen. The anger, the betrayal, surged through me, a burning tide. I had to protect him. Not from the Scavengers, not from the wasteland, but from them. From the people watching from the stars.
I pulled Leo close, shielding him from the light, hiding him from their prying eyes.
"It's okay, Leo," I whispered, my voice trembling. "We'll figure it out. We always do."
But I knew. We weren't surviving. We were performing. And the show, I suspected, was just beginning. The real monsters weren't the ones in the wasteland. They were the ones looking down, taking notes, and waiting to see what we'd do next.
They created this nightmare. And they were enjoying the show.
Some people are just too comfortable watching the world burn.