Leo Cormac sat in his armored SUV, parked in a dark alley where the shadows of trees merged with the gloom. The rain lashed against the windshield, its droplets streaming down, blurring the outlines of the dead City in July 2030, turning the streets into a smeared canvas of chaos.
His hands trembled. The revolver lay on his lap, its cold metal pressing against his skin. One question spun in his head, repeating like an echo: Who were these people? Hunters? Military? Survivors? And why did they kill without hesitation, like machines devoid of souls? He had seen how they acted—coldly, without doubt. Their movements were honed, like predators. These were not mad ones, whose madness was chaotic; this was something worse—an organized threat, hidden behind masks.
Leo remembered the survivor who had tried to run from them. His bundles of food rustling in the rain, his desperate dash toward the supermarket, his silhouette dissolved by gunfire. He was like Leo—a person who just wanted to survive. And that thought tormented his soul.
Or maybe… A sudden suspicion pierced him like a blow. Leo shuddered, frantically digging into his backpack where several crumpled packs of cigarettes, found in a wrecked taxi, lay. Their paper crackled under his fingers. He pulled out a cigarette, its filter shaking in his hands, and feverishly lit it. The flame trembled in the dark.
Leo didn't smoke. The unfamiliar smoke clogged his lungs, making him cough. His throat tightened; tears welled in his eyes. The new suspicion blazed in his mind, bright as lightning: well-equipped military… perhaps some kind of private military organization! They released the gas, seized power in the country, and were now covering their tracks, eliminating witnesses?
This idea needed to be thought over. It burned his mind like a coal, yet demanded proof. Tossing the half-smoked cigarette out the window—its smoldering end hissing out under the rain—he calmed a little. His breathing evened out. He pressed the ignition button. The engine responded with a low, powerful growl, its vibration transmitting to his body, bringing him back to reality.
Leo turned on the headlights but immediately switched them off, remembering the military's conversation about how their drones tracked light in the night. He carefully pulled onto the highway, moving slowly, navigating by the dim moonlight piercing through the clouds. Its pale beam trembled on the wet asphalt.
The leather jacket was soaked through from his searches through cars for food, its weight unpleasantly pulling on his shoulders. The revolver in his pocket felt like a stone. The shotgun lay on the passenger seat, the barrel of the powerful weapon gleaming in the semi-darkness, ready for a fight. Its presence was somewhat calming.
After twenty minutes, somewhere very close, a siren wailed. Its sharp sound tore through the quiet moonlit night like a warning cry. His heart pounded, the echo resonating in his chest. Leo abruptly pulled the vehicle over to the shoulder, ducking below the dashboard; the metal chilled his forehead.
An armored van with a blue flashing light sped past, its siren roaring like a beast. Behind it, keeping pace at high speed, a military cargo truck raced past, escorted by two army Humvees. Their headlights pulled chunks of smashed and abandoned cars from the darkness; the light flickered like lightning.
Leo held his breath, feeling sweat slowly trickle down his temples, leaving salty trails. The military were everywhere. Their patrols were becoming more frequent, and he knew: they were looking not only for the mad ones, but also for those like him—those who still retained their sanity, whose lives were now also under threat.
The rain intensified; heavy summer drops drummed on the roof. Visibility worsened; the windshield turned into a watery veil. Leo waited several minutes until the sound of sirens faded, dissolved into the night, and set off again. His hands still trembled on the wheel.
He drove carefully, maneuvering around car wreckage and bodies that no longer frightened him as before but had become simply part of the landscape, their silhouettes merging with the rain. At one point, he thought he saw a faint light in one of the single-story houses, behind a tightly boarded-up window. Its weak flicker was like a hint of life.
Leo tensed. His heart tightened with hope, but he didn't stop. Danger was too close. He simply memorized the house's address, its outline imprinted in his mind, deciding to return later… if he lived that long.