59
By 59
The sky was shrouded in clouds, casting only a faint shadow of the sun over the ruins of the city. Collapsed roads, twisted steel, and rusted signs covered in vines filled the landscape. There was no sound except the wind brushing through broken glass and debris, creating an eerie whistle.
Two children walked through the silence.
Yuuna held a worn-out rifle wrapped in leather straps. Her messy hair swayed as she carefully scanned the surroundings. Dirt clung to her hands, evidence of days without a proper wash. Behind her followed Ren, a boy slightly shorter, with sharp, quiet eyes. He didn’t speak much, but with their footsteps and glances alone, they moved as a perfect team.
Outside the city, the concrete gave way to a decayed public park overrun by trees and shrubs. Fruit hung from tangled branches growing through old pavement. Yuuna crouched down and picked one.
“Hey, this looks familiar, right?”
Ren pulled out a weathered notebook. Inside were hand-drawn illustrations and notes—“Edible. Don’t overeat.” He nodded. With a small sigh of relief, Yuuna wrapped the berries in cloth and placed them in her bag.
Their next stop was a crashed military helicopter entangled in trees nearby. The blades were snapped, the body charred and split. Carefully stepping inside, they found remnants of combat—burn marks, old blood, empty gear.
Ren moved to the cockpit and pulled out a dusty radio. The case was intact, but the battery seemed dead. He pried it open, inspecting the wires. Yuuna rummaged through a nearby medical kit, collecting spare parts and anything salvageable.
“I hope this thing still works.”
Ren simply nodded.
By dusk, they reached an abandoned supermarket. They stepped through broken glass, alert. The air was thick with mold and decay. Shelves lay collapsed, water stains marked the walls, but in a corner, some canned food remained untouched.
“Better than I thought. Let’s grab what we can.”
As they gathered supplies, Ren noticed large tracks on the dusty floor. Then—low breathing.
Grrrr…
From the shadows emerged a huge, emaciated bear. Its fur was patchy, ribs showing, eyes wild with hunger.
Bang!
Yuuna fired. The first shot missed. The second grazed the bear’s shoulder—blood, but not enough. The bear roared and charged.
Click.
The rifle jammed.
“No— It’s stuck!”
Ren kicked a nearby cart, distracting the bear. Yuuna opened the gun quickly. A spring was out of place, ammo still intact. From her pouch, she pulled parts scavenged from a broken watch. Her fingers shook, but her eyes stayed steady.
Ren overturned shelves, climbed a fridge to stay out of reach. The bear snarled below, crashing through debris to follow him.
“Got it…!”
Bang!
Yuuna fired once more. This time, a clean hit—just below the bear’s eye. It collapsed, shaking the floor.
She exhaled, lowering the gun.
“That was close…”
Ren nodded silently, dropping down to her side.
Later that night, they returned to the helicopter. Under the dim sky, Ren held the radio and pressed the button.
Static—then a faint voice.
“—Repeat. Survivors… southern sector… signal holding—”
Their eyes met. For the first time in a while, there was something more than survival.
Days later, they followed the signal to the south. A ruined relay building with a faintly blinking transmitter welcomed them. Spent ammo shells, graffiti, and dried footprints told them they weren’t the first.
Someone had been here.
Or still was.
On a nearby rooftop, a figure in a black coat watched them through binoculars. A woman’s voice spoke into a device.
“Two targets confirmed. Armed. Coordinated. Tracking continues.”
Even in a dead city, stories were still alive.
Story Content
The sky was shrouded in clouds, casting only a faint shadow of the sun over the ruins of the city.
Collapsed roads, twisted steel, and rusted signs covered in vines filled the landscape.
There was no sound except the wind brushing through broken glass and debris, creating an eerie whistle.
Two children walked through the silence.
Yuuna held a worn-out rifle wrapped in leather straps.
Her messy hair swayed as she carefully scanned the surroundings.
Dirt clung to her hands, evidence of days without a proper wash.
Behind her followed Ren, a boy slightly shorter, with sharp, quiet eyes.
He didn’t speak much, but with their footsteps and glances alone, they moved as a perfect team.
Outside the city, the concrete gave way to a decayed public park overrun by trees and shrubs.
Fruit hung from tangled branches growing through old pavement.
Yuuna crouched down and picked one.
“Hey, this looks familiar, right?”
Ren pulled out a weathered notebook.
Inside were hand-drawn illustrations and notes—“Edible.
Don’t overeat.” He nodded.
With a small sigh of relief, Yuuna wrapped the berries in cloth and placed them in her bag.
Their next stop was a crashed military helicopter entangled in trees nearby.
The blades were snapped, the body charred and split.
Carefully stepping inside, they found remnants of combat—burn marks, old blood, empty gear.
Ren moved to the cockpit and pulled out a dusty radio.
The case was intact, but the battery seemed dead.
He pried it open, inspecting the wires.
Static—then a faint voice.
“—Repeat.
Survivors… southern sector… signal holding—”
Their eyes met.
For the first time in a while, there was something more than survival.
Days later, they followed the signal to the south.
A ruined relay building with a faintly blinking transmitter welcomed them.
Spent ammo shells, graffiti, and dried footprints told them they weren’t the first.
Someone had been here.
Or still was.
On a nearby rooftop, a figure in a black coat watched them through binoculars.
A woman’s voice spoke into a device.
“Two targets confirmed.
Armed.
Coordinated.
Tracking continues.”
Even in a dead city, stories were still alive.
