I woke in a city that no longer lived.
My body lay motionless between two twisted steel bars, pressed against cracked concrete. When I lifted my head, the world spun. Dust hung in the air, and debris stretched in every direction. Whatever this place had once been, it had fallen—hard and completely.
My thoughts came slowly, like signals fighting through interference. I tried to understand what had happened, but my mind refused to cooperate. My vision swayed, unfocused. I didn't know who I was. I didn't know why I was here. I didn't even know what I was supposed to be.
The ringing in my ears faded at last, replaced by a heavy silence—too heavy for a city.
I forced myself upright, stiff and uncoordinated, like something waking after a long hibernation. Pain followed immediately. Bruises covered my arms and ribs. My clothes were torn and dirty—gray jeans, a jacket barely holding together.
My mouth was dry, my throat burning, but thirst had to wait. Survival came first.
What felt like half an hour passed as I dragged myself down from the remains of what had once been a building. With every step, the streets came into clearer view—empty, broken, unforgiving.
A dull pressure settled in my chest, an instinct older than thought.Whatever this day held, it wouldn't be kind.
After a while of taking in the strange environment, I came to accept it.Turning forward, my thoughts shifted to survival.
Even though my memories—who I was and where I came from—were blurry, I could still think clearly enough to plan. Survival was my only choice at that moment.
Three words echoed in my mind:adapt, survive, conquer.
Maybe my past life had something to do with it, or maybe it was just human instinct kicking in at the right time.
Looking around at the devastating state the world had fallen into, I knew I needed resources—lots of them. Enough to last through the day, at least. Tomorrow could wait.
I spotted a small store and headed toward it, hoping to find leftover food, or at the very least, water to quench my thirst. The glass windows were still intact. On closer inspection, the lights inside weren't working—meaning the electricity was either cut off or completely dead. That worked in my favor; no alarms, no sirens.
I searched the debris for a solid rock and threw it at the glass. It cracked, leaving a small hole. After a moment, I found a metal rod and widened the opening enough to slip inside.
The interior was surprisingly intact, aside from a few shelves that had already been cleared. I wouldn't be surprised if the owner—or someone else—had taken supplies for their own survival. Still, the place was eerily quiet.
I moved through the aisles quickly, grabbing water, canned food, energy bars, and a few energy drinks. After eating and drinking my fill, I felt relief—not because I had found safety, but because I had found a temporary lifeline.
I searched for anything else useful: a watch to tell the time—it was early afternoon—ropes, a flashlight, a fire starter, an axe, a portable stove, pots, a solar charger, and a sturdy backpack. I added a sleeping bag and changed out of my torn clothes into something warmer and more durable. I focused mostly on canned food—things that could last.
I looked like a camping novice, more or less, but I had what I needed. Almost. I had forgotten the essentials: medicine, transportation, and proper defense.
Luckily, I found a first-aid kit—probably enough for now.
Outside, there was a clothing store, a car dealership, and a bike shop. I headed straight for the bikes. Electric ones were useless without power, so I chose a traditional bicycle. Cars were out of the question; most roads were blocked by rubble.
I grabbed additional winter clothes—just in case. The cold was already creeping in.
As for defense, all I had was pepper spray, an axe, and a metal rod. It would have to do. Upgrades could come later.
At first, I considered staying in the store. There was still plenty of food. But my instincts screamed at me. I didn't know what dangers were out there. An open store with no cover was a terrible place to stay—especially if someone else had guns.
I left with everything I'd gathered.
Scanning what remained of civilization, I found a hiding spot: a small room near the top of a damaged building. Hard to access. Only reachable by climbing debris. Perfect.
I settled in, arranged my supplies, and sat inside my sleeping bag while canned beans heated on the stove. Through a small window, I watched the stars, replaying the day in my head.
I was grateful for the meal. Maybe others wouldn't be so lucky. I had survived today—but tomorrow was another story.
There was no book to read, and the cold seeped in. I decided I'd look for one tomorrow. A thermometer, too. A radio crossed my mind, but I wasn't ready to risk contact with people yet.
The wind howled outside, and the silent room—no bigger than a prison cell—felt unsettling. Sleep didn't come easily.
Sometime late at night, I woke up.3:00 a.m.
I thought I heard something outside. It wasn't human. It was deeper. Beastly. Angry.
I tried to convince myself I was dreaming. All I had were an axe, pepper spray, and a metal rod. My thoughts spiraled, images from old sci-fi movies flashing through my mind. Monsters. Creatures.
I didn't want to be food for whatever was out there.
Eventually, exhaustion won. I fell back asleep.
Morning came with a bitter chill—and it kept getting colder. This wasn't normal. I was thankful for my cold-rated sleeping bag and winter clothes.
After eating, I decided medicine couldn't wait any longer. I grabbed my bike and rode until I found a pharmacy. It had been broken into, but not completely emptied. I gathered bandages and medicine and tended to my wounds. I felt better almost immediately.
Hunger and exhaustion must have distracted me earlier.
On the way back, I passed what remained of a library. A small bookshelf still stood. Novels. History books. I took what I could and headed back.
Then I heard it.
Chewing.
A low, hollow sound.Grrr. Grrr.
I backed away slowly. I needed to secure my supplies first. I moved as quietly as possible, resisting the urge to look. Whatever it was eating—it didn't matter. I left in a hurry.
After locking myself into my shelter, I returned cautiously.
What I saw stopped me cold.
Remains of something like a deer. Legs. Bones. Torn flesh. This was a predator's work. Maybe more than one—the footprints suggested it.
Too big to be a wolf.Too small to be a bear.
What terrified me most wasn't the size.
It was the tracks.
Only two-legged footsteps.Not human.
And they hadn't dragged the prey the way animals usually do.