The Steel Island
It took them nearly two hours of exhausting paddling to reach the communications tower. The last of Anja's energy was spent fighting the current that swirled around its massive, submerged base.
Up close, it was a colossal skeleton of rust-pitted iron, rising from the black water like the spine of some ancient beast. A maintenance ladder, slick with algae but blessedly intact, ran up one of the main supports.
Securing the barrel was a nightmare. Anja fought for nearly half an hour, her hands raw and bleeding from hauling the rebar, before she managed to lash it securely to the ladder's base.
The climb was the true test. Anja went first, the precious supply bundle tied to a separate rope and slung over her shoulder. The wet bundle was deceptively heavy, its weight threatening to pull her exhausted arms from their sockets.
Her bare feet slipped on the slimy rungs, and for one terrifying moment, halfway up, her grip failed. She dangled by one hand, the dark, churning water seeming to gasp for her below. The image of the man on the post, swallowed by the depths, flashed in her mind.
Gritting her teeth, she found a new handhold and continued, her muscles screaming in protest, the thought of Sami finally getting out of the cold water her only fuel.
When she finally hauled herself over the edge onto the grated metal platform, she lay there for a full minute, gasping, pressing her face against the cold, unmoving steel. The sheer, absolute stability of it was the greatest luxury she had ever known.
"We made it," she gasped to Sami, who was now beginning his own slow, determined ascent. "Sami, we made it."
He collapsed beside her, his small frame trembling. The platform was wide and surprisingly clean, swept bare by the wind. They were safe. For one night, they were safe.
"Let's get you warm," Anja said, her voice gentle. She helped Sami out of his wet outer shirt and wrapped him in their one dry blanket. With the supplies now on a stable surface, she carefully unwrapped the bandages from the barrel and knelt to inspect his shin. The cut was no longer an angry red, but a healing pink. She cleaned it with an antiseptic wipe, the clean, sharp smell a scent from another world.
"It feels like we're in the clouds," Sami whispered, his eyes wide as he looked out at the vast darkness from their new perch.
"We are," Anja agreed.
In the shelter of a large junction box, she laid out the map. For the first time, they could look at it properly, its laminated surface flat and steady.
"See?" she said, her finger tracing their path. "Here was the rooftop. And here are the port cranes. And this is us." Her finger rested on a spot miles from their destination. "We're on the path, Sami. It's real."
He leaned over, his own small finger tracing the line to the symbol for the Lifeline Cooperative. "A real home," he whispered.
Anja measured out a generous portion of the nutrient paste for them both. They ate slowly, savoring every mouthful. It wasn't a feast, but after months of hardened crackers, the simple, oaty sweetness was the most delicious thing Anja had ever tasted.
The warmth of the food spread through her, a slow, deep comfort that unknotted muscles she hadn't realized were clenched. They were safe. They were dry. They were full. It was a trifecta of miracles.
A Fisherman's Warning
"We should rest," Anja said after they finished, her body humming with a deep, profound exhaustion. "We'll be stronger tomorrow."
But Sami was unnaturally quiet. He wasn't looking at the water; he was staring up into the tower's dark lattice.
"The birds," he whispered. "Where are they?"
Anja frowned. "What birds?"
"Seabirds," he said, his voice troubled. "A tower like this, so high, so safe… it should be covered in them. But there's nothing. It's… clean. Too clean. It's like they're afraid of it."
A cold prickle of unease traced its way down Anja's spine. "Don't be silly," she said, a little too sharply. "We're safe here."
But she listened. And she heard it. A faint, rhythmic scrape… scrape… scrape from somewhere inside the main support column beside them. It was too regular.
Ghosts in the Machine
Anja's hand went to the filleting knife at her belt. She crept toward a small, rusted maintenance hatch. The scraping was louder here. She looked at Sami, his small face a pale oval in the gloom, his eyes wide with fear. He had been right. They were not alone.
Slowly, her heart hammering, she raised the lever. The hatch swung inward with a low groan.
The stench that billowed out was overpowering—a foul, animal smell of sweat, waste, and old decay. From the darkness within, two eyes, reflecting the dim starlight with a feral, yellow gleam, blinked up at her.
A low growl echoed from the column. Before Anja could slam the hatch shut, a figure scrambled out, gaunt and skeletal, his movements like an insect's. He was followed by two others, their clothes a patchwork of oil-stained canvas and plastic sheeting, their eyes holding a desperate, territorial madness.
Their weapons were crude things—jagged pieces of metal welded to pipes, a heavy wrench bound with wire. They weren't survivors. They were ghosts haunting their own steel tomb.
"Ours," the first one rasped, his gaze fixing on their supply bundle. "Our perch. Our prize."
The Price of Sanctuary
They fanned out, their movements silent and practiced, cornering Anja and Sami against the railing. Anja shoved Sami behind her, raising the knife.
"Get back!" she yelled, her voice trembling.
The lead scavenger just laughed, a dry, rattling sound. He feinted with his rebar spear, forcing Anja back a step. "Drop the knife, girl," he hissed, his eyes flicking to Sami. "The little one has soft skin. Easy to break."
Anja's blood ran cold. She knew they couldn't fight. To fight was to die. Escape was their only option.
"The bundle!" she screamed at Sami. "Cut it loose!"
While the scavengers' attention was on her, Sami scrambled to the railing and sawed frantically at the rope with the multi-tool. The lead scavenger lunged.
She dodged, slashing wildly, as the other two converged on Sami.
"Now, Sami!" Anja shrieked.
The rope parted. The supply bundle plummeted over the side, landing with a heavy splash, tethered to the barrel.
The scavengers screamed in fury, their attention drawn to the prize floating below. It was their only distraction.
"Go!" Anja yelled, grabbing Sami's arm. They scrambled for the ladder. As they swung over the edge, a hand grabbed at Sami's ankle.
He screamed. Anja, dangling precariously, kicked back wildly, her heel connecting with a satisfying crunch. The hand let go.
Their descent was a controlled fall, a desperate slide down the slick, rusted rungs, the sound of their pursuers' boots scraping on the metal right behind them.
The Treacherous Escape
They hit the water and swam desperately for the barrel. Anja fumbled with the knots, her fingers numb with cold and terror, freeing their vessel.
Just as she untied the last rope, a heavy clang echoed from above as a scavenger hurled a large piece of scrap metal down at them. It crashed into the water a meter away, sending a freezing wave over their heads.
"Paddle!" Anja screamed, but another piece, larger this time, whistled past her head. The open water was a kill box.
"Under here!" she yelled, making a split-second decision. Grabbing the barrel's rope, she pulled them away from the open water and into the darkness beneath the main platform, into the treacherous, submerged support structure of the tower itself.
It was a claustrophobic maze of iron crossbeams. The sounds from above were muffled, but the darkness was absolute. Something slimy brushed against Anja's leg. The barrel scraped against a pillar with a loud screech.
"They'll hear us," Sami whimpered.
"They can't see us," Anja hissed back. "Push now! To your left!"
Sami's small hands pushed, and the barrel scraped past an obstacle. Just as they neared the far side, the barrel wedged tight between two thick pillars.
Anja shoved, her feet finding no purchase in the murky water. For a terrifying moment, they were stuck, trapped. Above, she could hear the scavengers shouting, their footsteps moving along the platform, searching.
With a final, desperate, adrenaline-fueled heave, she dislodged them. They broke free from the iron maze, emerging on the far side of the tower, out of sight.
.
The Aftermath
They drifted in the oppressive silence, the dark shape of the tower shrinking behind them. The adrenaline bled away, leaving a cold, trembling exhaustion.
The salt water stung the raw scrapes on Anja's hands. Sami shivered uncontrollably.
"It's gone," he whispered, his voice small and broken. "The lantern."
The loss hit Anja with the force of a physical blow. Their one weapon against the darkness was gone. "The toolkit is gone, too," she said, her voice flat after a fumbling assessment of their waterlogged supply bundle. "And most of the food." They had maybe two days' worth of paste left.
She pulled the thin, soaked blanket around Sami's shoulders. He flinched when she touched a scrape on his arm.
"Are they... are they all like that?" Sami asked. "The other people?"
The question hung in the darkness. The silent family had been ghosts of despair, but the creatures in the tower were predators. Anja no longer feared the emptiness of the drowned world; she now feared what filled it. Every distant ruin was a potential lair.
"We're safe for now," she whispered, the lie tasting like ash. The sanctuary had been a trap, and its lesson was brutal: out here, the only thing more dangerous than being alone was finding someone else.
A Calculated Risk & A Father's Wisdom
As the first, weak hint of grey began to bleed into the eastern sky, Anja felt it in her paddle—a stubborn, sideways pressure. The current was pulling them away from their westward path.
"Something's different," Anja murmured. "The water… it's pulling us."
She fought it, but the pull was relentless. Despite her battle, the port cranes, her only landmark, began to shrink. A cold knot of panic tightened in her stomach.
Then, through the haze of exhaustion, she noticed the water swirling unnaturally around a ruined electrical pylon. On its leeward side, a slow, powerful eddy was turning back on itself.
A memory of Papa rose to meet her. "Strength is good, Anja, but brute force is a fool's game. A smart plan, a clever angle... that's how you move something the world says can't be moved."
The memory ignited a spark of defiance. "Hold on, Sami!" she grunted, turning the barrel into the stronger current. For several heart-stopping minutes, the main current seized them. The water churned, threatening to swallow them whole.
Just as despair began to gnaw at her, they slipped into the eddy. The barrel spun once, then began to drift, almost peacefully, back toward the west. "We… we made it," Sami whispered. They were not just debris. They could still fight.
The First Sign
They drifted into the immense, skeletal structures of the old shipyard district. A sudden, jarring screech of metal against their hull sent a jolt of terror through her as the current squeezed them between a sunken barge and a collapsing pier. Just as the last of her resolve began to crumble, she saw it.
A sudden, vibrant flash of yellow bobbing in the water directly ahead. It wasn't runoff. This was a solid, vibrant yellow, a luminous beacon. As they drifted closer, she saw it was a makeshift buoy. Her heart hammered. She could make out a faded, hand-painted symbol on its side—a circle with a wavy line inside.
"The map!" she gasped, her voice a raw, incredulous croak. "Sami, it's the same symbol! It's the very same symbol used on the map for the Lifeline Cooperative!"
It was a sign. A landmark in the wasteland. It was a promise that they were no longer lost. After the agony of the false sanctuary, the arrival of this true one felt like an impossible, breathtaking miracle. A new, fierce energy surged through her. She grabbed her paddle, her movements no longer weak but driven by a renewed, unshakeable purpose. They were on the right path.