August 18, 2039
A cabin located half a mile from Culver Lake, New Jersey
6:30am

A thick, acrid aroma drifted through the one-roomed cabin like incense, encapturing the two young occupants in its heavy clouds. Adelaide had woken up to black fog and the choking odor of scorched wood. She was blinded by the combination of smoke and her own tears. "For fuck's sake." She mumbled as she struggled to untangle herself from the blanket. Her head felt as heavy as the smoke around her and every instinct inside her was telling her to bolt out of there. She waved the billowing smoke out of her face as the sound of crackling flames reached her ears. She could make out the sight of smoldering flames through her squinted eyes, hungrily sweeping across the wooden logs that held up the cabin. Common sense finally clicked in and she hauled her backpack and rifle over her shoulder and gazed around the room, coughing hysterically.

"Elijah!" She called, the roaring flames overwhelming her voice. Adelaide reached around and finally caught an arm. She yanked the sleeping boy to his feet. He staggered and glanced around in confusion, his eyes barely open. He choked on the smoke that reached his nostrils. She hastily picked up his bag and shoved it in his arms. "How the hell were you sleeping through this, you little idiot!?"She cried and yanked him toward the door only to find the inferno wounding itself around it, blazing out of control. Bolting over to a clearest spot she could find, she began kicking in the wood on the wall with strength a bit unusual for a girl her size, or for any girl. She finally managed to make a sizable hole. Adelaide grabbed the wide-eyed boy and shoved him through it, "Go!"

Elijah couldn't exactly process much but after a hesitation he pushed through and crawled out on to the outside grass, coughing as his burning lungs finally got a taste of oxygen.
However, the hole wasn't big enough for Adelaide. He could see her trying to get through it but then she seemed to give up. He backed up, swallowing. There had to be another way out. Besides the fact she was his only companion and friend, he wasn't so sure he could survive on his own. Adelaide had always insisted that he could.It was a miracle he even remembered his own birthday. Elijah could not remember life before traveling with Adelaide. It was a blur in his head. He could remember tiny bits and pieces but they never really helped.

Relief filled him as the brunette finally emerged from the chimney, the house under her crumbling apart. She climbed down the other side and came running over as the dark smoke billowed into the morning sky. She was quite a bit taller than him, with long wavy dark hair and a pair of brown eyes to match. Her jeans and jacket, as well as her skin, was darkened by soot. "You could have just got an alarm clock or something if you wanted me up early you know."Elijah informed her as he struggled to catch his breath.

Adelaide managed an amused smirk. "You expect an alarm clock to wake you after you just slept through a house fire?" She asked between coughing. " Let's get out of here before we run into whoever decided it'd be a good day to try to set our cabin on fire." She did a quick scope of the surroundings, carefully letting her gaze slowly run along each and every tree of the forest around them. "Seems like a hit and run. Let's head toward the lake so we can wash up and figure out what we're doing. Did we lose anything of value?"

" Besides a couple of blankets that looked and felt like someone sewed a bunch of dead rat fur together, nope."Elijah replied, "I kept everything I need in my backpack."

"So did I." Adelaide fixated her gaze upon the horizon as the rising sun splashed the sky with beautiful hues of amber and lavender. The sun was the only thing they couldn't fight back against, dragging them all into another day of living hell.

"How much further until we get to New York City?" Elijah asked, following her gaze to the sun.

"It's probably at least a day's worth of walking but don't worry about it. We get there when we get there. "

---

Got a doll baby, I love her so,
Nothing else like her anywhere you go
Man, she's anything but calm,
A regular pint-sized atom bomb

The radio played on as Bozak sat on a toppled concrete pillar and searched through a pilfered satchel. Scattered around the ruined section of the street were the bodies of five “raiders”, as was a common name for their type. Some moments prior, Bozak and the party had stumbled into the street from opposing directions, and hostility quickly ensued.

“Toss your weapons! Everything!”

“Bozak refuses.”

“Right NOW damn it!”

“Bozak. Refuses.”

“RIGHT NOW OR WE’LL FUCKING SHOOT.”

“BOZAK. REFUSES.”

It didn’t end well for them. The thing with raiders is, they’re not patient. Oftentimes they’ll come running to get at their prey quickly rather than wait them out, like smart folks would. One by one, save for the two that rushed in together, but they all fell nonetheless. Nothing beats a shotgun waiting around a corner, and Bozak had taken very good care of his twelve-gauge over the years. Good for killing, not as much for talking.

Atom bomb baby, little atom bomb,
I want her in my wigwam
She's just the way I want her to be,
A million times hotter than TNT

The raiders didn’t have much on them. Must have been a dry week. Not even any ammunition for either of Bozak’s guns. One of them was lugging around the radio though, plus a bunch of cassettes. Fun thing for settling down at a campfire maybe, but Bozak wasn’t intent on taking it with him once he was done with his looting. And speaking of such, the satchel he was sifting through had proven to contain absolute bupkis. Just some ragged cloths and empty bottles. He tossed the satchel aside and stood up from his seated position.

Atom bomb baby, loaded with power,
Radioactive as a TV tower
A nuclear fission in her soul,
Loves with electronic control

New York City was a big place, though. He was sure to find something worthwhile on his trip through. Just had to keep going.

Atom bomb baby, little atom bomb,
I want her in my wigwam
She's just the way I want her to be,
A million times hotter than TNT

---

Loud noises. Gunfire. Not good noises. Bad and loud and scary. No time for food. Need to run.

Atlas wasn't very familiar with the weapons of man, but he had experienced enough in his time to know that when you hear the firesticks in the distance, it was time to pick up your kill and leave immediately. The shadows could hide him, but not here and not now. It was too early. Too bright for hiding, except in the very dark places. Atlas did not like the very dark places. With a snap of his jaw, he picked the small hare up in his mouth and skittered around the corner into the alley behind the deli. He took the alley between the buildings and passed a torn poster depicting a man holding a smaller man. It stopped him for a moment, before the twitching of the hare reminded him to keep moving.

When he finally came to a stop, he had arrived back at the deli once more, his circular search complete. No one was nearby, and the gunfire had stopped. Long enough for him to enjoy his kill that is. With a wrench of his neck, Atlas snapped the hare's spine and thrashed it into the ground before throwing it to the ground. The taste was of metal and warmth, a good feeling after so many hours of no food at all.The crunching of bone and the chewing of muscle could be heard from outside the store as the dog dug in, eager to have something in his belly.

A sound in the distance made Atlas lift his ears and turn his head, muzzle dripping with blood as he licked it away greedily. More sounds. Not firesticks. Not gunfire. Walking. Heavy steps. Heavy person. Or more than one person! What would he do? The doors would be the place they came from! The humans always came through doors. Where were humans coming from, Atlas thought as he tried to sniff at the air, finishing gobbling at the small animal's carcass.

A shattering of glass rang out as Atlas leapt out the already broken front window of the empty deli. They would never catch him. That is if it was a 'they' that was following him. He did not know, he didn't look back. He simply ran away, toward the open outskirts. Where it was quieter.

August 18, 2039; 0856 hours
Overgrown forest near the center of New Jersey

"There has to be something here to eat," Graham mumbled to himself as he crawled through the dense foliage and rubble of New Jersey, the only world he has ever known. He was has been eating very little of his rations. He was almost out and if he didn't find anything soon, he'd be dead by Saturday.
"Mom and Dad wouldn't have wanted me to die like this," He thought aloud, "I've been living alone in these woods for two years like a hermit, I can manage to kill something, even a pigeon, to keep myself alive."

Just then, something ran by him, so close he could feel the wind that came off of it's short brown fur. Graham straightened and looked through the scope of his rifle to examine the beast, this was his break! The deer, as it turned out to be, stopped by the small pond which Graham has been stalking for the past hour. It had it's head down, taking a sip of cool, refreshing water. It looked up, and noticed what he intended to do. It ran, but Graham had good aim.

Bang!

"Yes!" Graham exclaimed as loud as his lungs allowed, this may have scared away his other prey, but he had his kill. He ran out of his cover into the small meadow where the Deer was. He put down his pack and took his knife from his belt. Graham was happy, he wouldn't starve, and he could probably trade some meat down at the cabin he saw on his way to his hunting spot.

---

“You ask Bozak why he walks? Well, why does anyone walk? Standing and sitting are boring. Walking takes you places. Good and bad places, but, still places. Is better life than settlers. Is best life for Bozak.”

Bozak descended the stairs leading into a subway station, keen on checking out the immediate interior. More often than not, these types of city constructs were used for shelter purposes. Metros and transits across the nation were prime locations to settle within. Safe from outside elements, easily defendable, hidden away, all the like. But for many, the tunnels of the underground were too unsettling to reside within. And almost every city Bozak had been to so far, there was always something lurking in the darkness amidst the rails.

He paced along the concrete walkway, noting the scattered papers and luggage. He checked a few, but he didn’t find much other than spare clothes and impractical baubles. Cell phones have no place in this day and age. He checked the bathrooms and the offices – more useless crap, and the first aid kits had been picked clean. Oh, well.

The subway tunnel. Bozak took a peak down both ways, seeing no indication of a hostile presence or any settlers. He considered wandering down one of them but, that never turned up anything useful. When there’s lights in the distance, you know there’s folks ahead. They always built their hovels in the slightest view of the exit so they wouldn’t get lost, and so that escaping was easy, if escape were necessary. No lights mean either nothing was down there, or whoever were down there wished to remain especially hidden. And Bozak wasn’t up for disturbing anyone in the unfamiliar darkness at the moment. New city, new lessons.

He emerged from the station, out into an open area a little deeper into the city. Buildings reaching upward, cars strewn about. Mixtures of grays and browns and faint greens. Something pretty in all of it, when you stop and look.

But stop for too long and it all disappears.

Bozak kept moving, shotgun drawn, weaving through the cars, looking for more and more things to pilfer amidst the ruins.

August 18, 2039
9AM, State of New Jersey, near I-95 Highway
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Up on his feet since early morning, Lokki was casually riding his tricycle towards the Big Apple without a worry on his mind. It was an unusually warm morning with a slight breeze coming from the Atlantic Ocean, sun’s rays barely making through the clouds that have engulfed the US since a long time ago, making a number of beams coming down from the heavens like needles puncturing a piece of cloth.
“Love the smell of ash in the morning”- he commented to himself after a cloud of charcoal odor caught up to him.

As he casually pushed the pedals of his three-wheeler in a forward motion in the middle of the highway while noticing the large green table that reminded him he is nearing New York City, he quickly remembered his routine when approaching large city ruins - there is always trouble entering or exiting them. To keep it safe, he decided to get off the main road and have a try at some lesser known ways of getting in to avoid any potential threats. He made a sharp turn towards the exit, leaving the wide and empty road that stretched for as long as eyes can see and found himself in a suburban area of New Jersey. With not much to see other than ruble of what was once buildings and houses, he continued his way down a small road that ran parallel to the highway and the Arthur Kill strait that divided New Jersey state from Staten Island, New York. Without a worry in mind he started curving from one end of the road to the other, quite clearly enjoying his ride while listening to Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carleton on a discman he found in Columbus, Ohio, and had it fixed by some handyman in Pittsburgh in exchange for a bag of cherry lollipops, which he later stole back, one of which he is sucking on right this minute. Whenever this song came up he’d mumble the bridge and sing the chorus, never getting it down right despite the fact he’s been listening to it for a month.

Enjoying his ride for about half an hour with his jester hat dangling in the wind, the road was curving over a ridge and above it you could just barely pick out what was once New Jersey skyline. He paused his ride for a while on top of the ridge, taking off his goggles and taking in the surroundings. He quickly realized that on the right side he could see Staten Island, and beyond that was his destination – New York City. From his point of view he could also see the bridge connecting the two states, however, as cautious as he is, he decided not to go directly to it but instead use an old pirate telescope he carried in his tricycle basket to check it out for any signs of activity while benevolently letting out a silent “Yarrr”. Sure enough, a group of people were waiting on one end of the bridge, most likely preying on new-comers and “welcoming” them the old-fashioned way – with ambush. Clearly things are not looking up as the bridge is the only way in and it would take too much time and risk to the next one. He decided to look for a boat or anything he could use to get across the body of water that was in his way towards his goal.

"That sucks," Graham dropped the food that he was carrying to the cabin that he saw a day ago. Well, it WAS a cabin. It was now burned down, and from what he could tell, the fire started not too long ago. Graham, oddly drawn by fires, waded into the ashes, some embers still shone with a deep red. Graham didn't mind, pain is part of life.

At the far end of the rubble, there was some wood that survived the fire, only slightly charred. He crouched down beside it, pushing aside piece of rubble, and felt the intricate pattern with his hands. It was once part of a bed, he could see minor bits of fabric still burning away beside him.

This was no accident, he decided, nothing besides the cabin was affected.

Graham hoped the people who lived here got out all right, though through the rubble he couldn't tell if the ashes were wood, human, or mutie. He looked around for some evidence that they left, maybe they would lead him to a town. He planned to sell his deer meat. He soon found what he was looking for, human tracks. From what he could tell, there were two people, one teenager and one kid, roughly his age, give or take 3 years.

August 18, 2039; 0903

"Crap," Graham thought, he was following the tracks only for a few minutes before he noticed what he forgot, he took a sharp turn and ran back the way he came, but his 11 year old legs can only take him so far so quickly. His fresh kill was already gone.
"Bandits."

Laura Miller

______________________________________________

August 18, 2039 9:30 AM
New York City

Laura was somewhere in the ruins of the once bustling city of New York. She was in an small abandoned eatery somewhere near the roadside. Outside, the corpses of two bandit raiders stood eternal guard by the door, as a fatal warning to any who might want to enter. These were scum, the villainy that now roam the wastelands, preying on the less fortunate.

She had her assault rifle slung behind her back, as she began to search the premises for supplies of any sort. Anything she could find to trade would prove helpful. She doubt that there'll still be any food left, but it didn't hurt to check. One of the bandits had a pocket radio on him, and it provided her with more than just silence.

I don't want to set the world on fire
I just want to start a flame in your heart
In my heart I have but one desire
And that one is you no other will do

The raiders had hardly anything on them. Seems like they were foraging for stuff as well. She had surprised them and gunned them down without mercy. These raiders deserved no mercy as they themselves granted none. The diner fared slightly better as she managed to find some knives, dull but still somewhat sturdy. Wrapping them and placing them in her backpack, she moved to leave the diner when she came across the sounds of excited chatter and uncontrollable laughter.

Three raiders were walking down the street, talking loudly and laughing away as though nothing worried them in the world. They were foolish, and that would be their undoing. Swinging her rifle towards her front as rested it on one of the ruined window sills, she took aim, and fired, with the song still playing on the radio in the background.

I've lost all ambition for wordly acclaim
I just want to be the one you'd love
And with your admission that you'd feel the same
I'll have reach the goal I'm dreaming of believe me
I don't want to set the world on fire
I just want to start a flame in your heart

The gunshots echoed in the city, as the bandit in the front, dropped dead. The other two started to panic, and attempted to rush for cover, but that particular street they were on offered little cover, and they couldn't figure out where the shot was coming from. Several shots later, they too followed their comrade into the afterlife as she picked them off easily enough. Slinging back the rifle, Laura exited the diner as she moved to search the belongings of the new set of raiders.

Maria Hallins

---

August 18th, 2039 5:09 AM
Thirty miles from the Knight's Hold trading post

Maria always was awake early enough in the morning to watch the dull light come from the clouds noting the rise of the sun. The dull, grey skies reminded her that she hadn't seen the blue skies she had loved so much again since that day. Maria had taken to simply refering to the day the bombs fell as 'that day' as it was better than recalling the memory of thousands crying as death fell upon them. She could clearly remember the horror when she and her parents saw the ruins of their former home. The damage caused by the bombs was irreparable, the lives lost impossible to replace, and the families destroyed were a mere casualty of war. Maria had left her old life behind when her parents died and decided that she wouldn't dwell on a life she could no longer have.

For a year Maria had been traveling with Joy, a girl ten years younger than her. Joy had been born into this world and knew not what the past was like. Maria knew but she was unwilling to tell Joy anything about it whenever she asked for it was better the child know not the past. She had learned many things from Joy's lack of morals and had actually found surviving easier with the girl. She could provide the pair with supplies on a more stable basis than Maria's hunting could. In turn, Maria had taught Joy how to survive out in the wild if she ever had the need to do so. While Maria was sure Joy was using her, she was also sure she could use Joy as long as they were together.

The pair were about thirty miles from a trading post called Knight's Hold. The larger outpost was set up in what use to be the small town of Callahan, Florida which was twenty miles from Jacksonville. A rather large band of raiders had set up the area around Callahan and Jacksonville as their territory and 'protected' everybody who was in the area for a price. This price was usually something such as ammo, weapons, food, or perhaps sex if you find the right group. Maria didn't like the Knights, fools they were for trying to rule over the survivors as if this was a government. The last time Maria had encountered the 'tax collectors', as they had taken to calling themselves, she had to clean off her arrows and hunting knife from their blood. Disposing of their bodies wasn't too hard, all she had to do was burn the bodies and nobody could tell the difference between them and regular survivors killed for not paying their 'taxes'.

Maria wanted to spend as little time as possible at Knight's Hold and simply trade the books and cutlery she had found in abandoned houses for food and maybe a gun if she could afford it. But guns were expensive weapons in the New World and one was better to steal it from the corpse of a tax collector if they had it. Occasionally one would happen across a tax collector with a gun but they were only often see a few miles from the Knight's base in Jacksonville and often traveled in groups of six to ten with at least five guns in the group. As such, Maria had never had the chance to properly kill one with a gun and thus decided to try and trade for it even if it meant having to leave out food from her lists. She could have just as well steal the food from some survivor at the trading post. Maria turned back towards the camp, she hoped Joy was awake so they could get an early start and get to the post before noon so they could get out before it turned night again.

James Cooper

---

August 18, 2039, 8:50 AM
Central Brooklyn

A rogue does not laugh in the same way an honest man does; a hypocrite does not shed the tears of a man of good faith. All falsehood is a mask; and however well made the mask may be, with a little attention we may always succeed in distinguishing it from the true face.

James sighed and lowered the book for a moment. He'd be happy to see any face, really. There had to be other people somewhere. Maybe....maybe he could scavenge for one again today. There probably wouldn't be any. There never were. But at least he always found some neat books! Like this one: The Three Mus...ket...teers? He wasn't really sure what a Musketeer was, but it was a very nice book. Lots of people talking to each other, fight with and against other people, building camaraderie, falling in love... Other people must be great; there are so many things to do with them.

James closed the book and, having noted the page number, set it down on his bed. As he got up, humming notes in no particular order, a series of short pops sounded in the distance.

Oh, is it that time already? I thought it only got crackly later on. Guess it's time to start moving, then.

Unperturbed, he moved in the direction of his small kitchen, picking up a backpack that lay next to the counter as he did. The young man opened a cabinet, then smiled at his mistake as he saw it was empty. The next one over was more fruitful, and he pulled a can of creamed corn from the shelf and stuffed it into his bag.

Still smiling and humming, he slung the pack over his shoulder, picked up the sledgehammer resting against the doorframe, and made his way outside.

---

A bullet whistled through the air and hit the washing machine Donnie was hiding behind. It whistled again as it rebounded and flew away from Donnie's head, stopping in the drywall with a crumbling noise. His hands flews as they tied a scrap of cloth around his leg, tightening over a cut in his leg. Pale golden fluid was beginning to pool at his thigh as another bullet punched through and shattered the glass in the door of the washing machine next to him.

"Aw jeez."

Donnie's voice whined as chanced a peek around his cover, receiving a near-miss in return. There were only two gunners now, but the noise would attract more. And maybe not even raiders! Maybe some wild animal would come and deal with him before the raiders did. They were terrible shots. A bear could probably waltz right into the laundromat, open him from brains to balls and still have time to get his cap and uniform washed before he had to go prevent more forest fires. Baby Christ on a cracker, how was he supposed to know that he was in raider territory? He didn't see any effigies or signs, not even a corpse on display! He didn't even get time to beg for his life either! They just yelled at him and started firing, but luckily only that one bullet grazed his leg. He tightened the scrap of cloth once more, only for it to tear and loosen in his grip.

"Awwh jeez."

With a few flicks of his knife, he had taken another strip of cloth from the t-shirt he found discarded on the floor. An extra-long strip that he layered twice and tied around his leg tight before bowing it nicely. The bleeding would pass, and he didn't feel TOO light-headed. Hell, he'd have one great scar to tell stories with. If he survived. That thought ended as a voice came over the machines in a harsh growl. "Do y'think he's dead? I betcha I got him in the head. I betcha." Donnie's heart raced as he tried to keep his body as still as possible. As still as you can be when you're reaching for your sidearm thats tucked into your cowboy boot.

"If he is, I get his boots. And his shirt. And his gun." There was an noise of annoyance. A frustrated grumble as Donatello heard the cracking of glass beneath someone's step. "And his goggles too. Hurry up 'n' check if he's dead!" The steps got closer just as Donnie finished grabbing for his handgun and settled his pale, green-tinged arm in his lap. He had smeared some of his blood on his face already, so what difference did a little bit more make? He closed his eyes and he could feel the warm amber flowing down from his forehead. And then he stopped breathing. Well, through his mouth and nose, anyway.

A finger brushed his lip and beneath his nose. Checking if he was still breathing was pretty smart for a couple of dumb raiders. He almost sneezed as he smelled the foul stench of the raider's finger, but he managed to remain still. Disgusting. "Yerp, he's deader'n a hare inna foxhole." The raider said again.

"Y'wanna strip him here or-"

Donatello didn't let him finish his sentence. A few minutes of struggle later, and he was left with two dead raiders and four bullets wasted. He rifled through their belongings and found 6 7.62x51mm bullets, a grenade and a power bar, but no 9x19mm ammunition. A quick check revealed that he had all of 10 bullets left for his handgun and some 40 odd bullets for his rifle, including the 10 left in the magazine. All just sitting there, gleaming from the bottom of his little child-sized backpack. He grumbled to himself, beginning to limp away and around the corner into the alley alongside the laundromat. Had he taken a left, or a right just before? Or did he go straight and then fall? The chase had turned him around big time, and the power bar he looted was already gone so the first order of business was to find food. His stomach growled at him and his leg gave out for a moment, sending him careening headfirst into a dumpster.

And there he lay, on his back. Seeing stars as if the night-sky was out at day.

"Awwwwwhhhh jeez..."

---

---

That was definitely droppings that he just ate. Definitely. Atlas' tongue lolled out of his mouth and he coughed onto the road, the previously interesting brown pellets coming straight back out from his gullet to hit the floor in a small heap. Why did his siblings think they were so appealing? They weren't berries, they tasted terrible and they smelled worse. The muscular dog sneezed, kicking some dirt over the leavings before moving on from the bushes and into the open. The scent was stuck in his nose, so searching for food with scent would have to wait for a while. He whined and rubbed his face in the dirt before sneezing once again. Mud, grass and feces were all he could glean from it, but his ears revealed something in the distance. Something heavier than a hare.

He was already moving by the time he heard the next sound in the distance. More firesticks. The loud reports weren't close, but they were enough to scare Atlas into running beneath the first obstacle he could get beneath. A big shiny the humans used for carrying things. A 'truck'. He put his body to the 'wheel' and peered out, shoulders hunched and ears forward. The loud noises continued from further away. Moving in the opposite direction? A good sign, the hunters had found other prey before they had found him. He came out from beneath the truck tentatively, before vaulting onto another human shiny called a 'car'. His eyes couldn't pick anything out aside from a sea of 'cars' and 'trucks' and other shinys that he didn't understand. So many shinys but no people.

That is until the heavy noise returned, very loud and very close. Right behind him. Atlas turned slowly to find a human, and a monstrously sized one at that. Tall, big, dirty and with firesticks on him. 'Guns' dangling off of him shone in the light of the morning, just as the other parts of him did. Atlas lowered his head, flipped his ears back and hunched slightly, ready to bound away should he try something. He could smell that the human was male, and that he wasn't exactly clean. Then again, neither was Atlas. His fur was matted and clumped with mud and blood, just as this 'man' was. Unsure of how to proceed, Atlas did what he was taught.

He barked.

---

Bozak looked straight at the canine, shotgun rested on his shoulder. Been a while since he ran into one of these. And his response to the dog's greeting?

"Dog." He said, with a slight nod, before proceeding to walk past the canine and continue on his way.

Atlas' ears folded back as he tilted his head. Confused. Not loud noise and not aggression, just a soft noise. 'Dog'. That was Atlas. His head tilted the other direction. Atlas was not sure how to respond, but this human was headed toward where the loud noises were. That was bad.

Atlas was about to give a cautionary bark, before a tantalizing smell overpowered the scent of dirt and feces in his nose. A smell of meat. The dog couldn't help but hop down from the car to investigate. He hopped close and barged at the human's leg with his wet nose, smelling the scent getting stronger.

"No, no." Bozak replied, waving Atlas away with his free hand, "Bozak no have food for dog. Go away." He kept his hand on his pocket, knowing full well that the dog was after the deer jerky he'd bought from a hunter the other day. Only meat he had on him and like FUCK if he was going to give it away to a mutt on the road.

'No'. A word that Atlas was very familiar with. Heard too many times before when he was a fighting dog. 'Food' was another he was familiar with. The combination of the two was what confused him. No food? That was just wrong. Did this human KNOW that he had meat in his pouch? How simple are the humans that they would forget something so crucial as food?

Atlas would have to show him. Otherwise he might starve and die.

"No." Bozak repeated, pushing the dog's muzzle aside. "NOT for dog."

But Atlas persisted.

"DOG." Bozak said, turning to face Atlas directly, looking down at him. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder towards the road ahead and said, "Bozak going this way." He switched his hand's direction, pointing to the road behind Atlas, and said, "Dog go that way. No food. Food not for dog."

The dog's head tilted once again, almost 90 degrees as his confusion reached a new peak. This human was using his paws so strangely. 'This way' and 'that way'. What was he trying to tell Atlas? They had met going this way and that way. No food? There was no food over there. That much Atlas had gathered.

But this human. This Bozak. He smelled of food. Atlas sneezed and shook his head, before yammering and barking at length. The odd lump in his throat throbbed at him, causing his barks to wheeze slightly. Bozak knew where food was, but it wasn't for dogs? He must be sick or confused. He would need to be cared for.

Bozak backed up a bit, keeping his vision trained on Atlas. The dog moved towards him as he paced in the opposing direction. This went on for a few moments before the big man decided that there was no simply telling this dog to get lost. He sighed and reached into his pocket, removing from it a bundle of deer jerky bound in string and wrapped in a cloth to stay... somewhat fresh. He removed a single piece of jerky from the bundle and held it outward, waving it at Atlas. The dog followed the bit of jerky for a moment before Bozak proceeded to toss the jerky a little over the distance behind him. "There. Food." Bozak said, "Go. Eat. Leave Bozak alone." The man quickly turned the other direction and continued walking, assuming his plan had worked.

Atlas bounced back and snapped up the piece of jerky happily, chewing and licking loudly. The meat was tough, and dry, but it was tasty. Tastier than most other meats he had eaten before. The taste, the smell, even the look, it was wonderful. Even after it was gone, it seemed to call to him. Atlas knew there was more in the Bozak's pouch. He could smell it.

It was only a few seconds before he had bounded back, eyeing the large human's leg with a hungry expression. He could play the begging pup when he needed to. He learned from his siblings of its efficacy on the humans. He rocked from front legs to back as he whined, almost hopping like a rabbit.

Bozak looked down at Atlas again, peering at him through his gas mask. He shook his head and, instead of continuing onward or tossing more jerky, took a knee. He looked at the dog for a moment before catching a glimpse of his collar, and the medallion hanging off it. Shape of a globe. 'Atlas' printed on it. He nodded and said, "Atlas." He raised the bundle of jerky and took two more pieces out, letting the dog have at them. "Is good name for dog."

As Atlas ate the two pieces of jerky, Bozak stood back up. To make things simple, he could just shoot the thing. But... damn it, it was always this way in books and movies. You can't just shoot a dog, there's this... cosmic law against it. And that whine. Ugh, people were one thing, but dogs... Atlas raised his head back up towards Bozak, and the big man sighed once more.

"No more jerky. Rest for Bozak." He said, "But... if Bozak and Atlas find more meat... Atlas can have some of it. Sound good to Atlas?"

Bozak had made noises at Atlas, and so he barked in reply. The words had passed over his understanding, besides 'more', 'meat', 'Bozak' and his own name. But that was enough for Atlas. He got what he was searching for and there was mention of more. The dog's tongue lolled once more as he turned to the road ahead, sparing one last look at Bozak before barking again with that same wheeze.

"Hmph." Bozak replied, turning to continue his walking, with Atlas following at his side. "Atlas lucky he is dog. Bozak might have shot him if he were person. Or a mutant."

August 18, 2039; 0942 hours
The forest, again.

"This is useless." Graham had given up hope on finding his kill. The tracks of the thief seemed only to twist and loop around hills and trees for half an hour, but it was fruitless. When he finally found a open area, it was the small clearing that the dead ashes of the cabin lay.

Graham dropped his pack on the hard dirt. There he sat, on his knees, facing the rubble. It seemed even more dead than it had when he first found it. All of the embers finally died down, and the last bit of smoke cleared. The boy took out and unwrapped a small package covered in worn fabric. Inside were his last rations, some blueberries, a cooked pigeon, and a stale bit of bread from the town. They tasted relatively good, considering.

He also took out a stuffed bear. It was sun-bleached, stained, and missing both ears and an eye, but it was the only thing he kept as a memory of his family. He took off the bears head and reached inside the plush, taking out some ammunition, good for trade.

The boy slowly got up, put his old backpack on his back, -where else would it go?- and proceeded toward the main town, a settlement just East of the original city. He could buy food there.

---

Zin surveyed the remnants of the City of New York from atop one of the tallest structures remaining. It was little more than the frame of a once great building that had been filled with ash from the nuclear fallout. Zin lay flat on his belly on one of the steel girders, his black clothing doing a decent job of blending him in with the ashen metal. He had his sniper rifle before him, he didn't foresee firing it today but he was using the telescopic sight to peer over the city. He heard gunshots and jumped slightly in shock, his brain scrambling as he shifted to find the source. Finally, he realized that the sound was coming from too far away to be directed at him. He exhaled in relief, but kept wary, his muscles tense.

More gunshots rang out. The city was unnaturally busy this morning. There were firefights almost every day, but there were far more than usual this particular morning. Probably new people straggling into the city. People came from all over the east coast, expecting to find something in New York City. As if it's pre-war immensity, financial dominance, and power meant there would be something here. A safe haven, an underground food cache. One and all, they were disappointed. There was nothing. Zin knew. New York had been one of the heaviest targets during the war, nuclear missiles rained on it constantly. Almost everything was destroyed. Mere alleys and rooms survived. What little resources made it through had been scavenged in the first few years of the fallout. There was almost nothing left now. Nothing. Nothing but Zin.

He survived it all. Moving like a cockroach from place to place, finding shelter, scavenging food, stealing weapons and...yes, killing when he had too. Zin turned, rolling off the girder with grace. His rifle finding it's way into the holster on his back. He pulled out a knife, holding it in his right hand. He always kept at least one weapon in hand, the city was too dangerous to go without. He had a sense of where the firefights had occurred, luckily none were too close to him. They were all at least a fifteen minute walk. But if fights had occurred, it was probably over some resource or another. Food or weapons, most commonly. Zin was in need of more of both. He started walking.

August 18, 2039 6:45 am
Culver Lake, New Jersey

The two had walked through the trees for a good fifteen minutes, finally coming to the lake. Adelaide sat down at the grassy edge, bending over to wash the soot off her arms and face. She rolled up her sleeves and enjoyed the feeling of cool, refreshing water against her cheeks despite the cool morning air. Standing up, she tied her hair in a messy side-braid. "I bet you're tempted to go for a swim, fish-boy. " A distant burning made her glance down at her hands. There were burns marking up her palms, darkening her pale skin. The pain had been irritating for most of the walk but it had dulled long enough after touching the water that she forgot it was there. "How far is the nearest town? We might be able to trade some stuff for a horse or something."

Elijah was sitting against the trunk of a tree, fiddling with some wires. "Oh. Uhh." He put away his items and took out a crumbled, stained map from his backpack. "Not too far. Maybe we could get a car."

"A car?"She repeated with a sigh, "Like that would happen. Working cars are rare. Most of them were taken by gangs of bandits."

"Like the Wolves?" Elijah asked, "I always hear people say that and I don't understand what they are. People sure act like they're pretty scary. I feel like every town we go into has less and less people."

"That might also be due to the unknown creatures that keep killing everyone, "Adelaide stood up, brushing dirt off her clothes. She wasn't so sure herself what the Wolves were. She had heard it thrown around as well but no one seemed to want to talk about it. She faintly recalled being warned more than once to watch out for them. There had been one time that really stuck in her memory.

There had been a night in the spring when a tall boy in black stopped Adelaide in a small village. She had been examining canned goods when his hand had fallen on her shoulder. When she had turned around, she had been met with piercing blue eyes. She recognized them immediately. This wasn't the first time she had seen this guy. For some reason, he seemed to be everywhere.

"Tick tock, little girl. Your times running out." He had said eerily. She made a face at him immediately. What the hell was this supposed to be? " How much longer do you think you can survive by yourself..."He drew off, his gaze falling to Elijah. He was just a couple feet away at a different stand. "let alone take care of a child? No one will welcome you into a group with a child to feed. Children are useless in this world. My advice: get rid of him and find a group to take you in. "

Adelaide remembered getting fairly pissed at him. He had no place telling her what to do. "My advice: fuck off."She had stated coolly with narrowed eyes. "Get out of my way." She brushed past him only to be caught by the arm again.

"Listen, Adelaide. Young women are not going to do well on the streets in a world without rules. You know very well what may happen. In fact, it's happened enough already that barely any women walk around anymore. Take a look around you." He gestured around them. She glanced around. She was the only female here. However this guy was wasting her time. Everyone knew it was more dangerous for girls. This was nothing new. "Not just women. Men too. It's dangerous for anyone now. The murder gangs, the bandits, the mutants... The Wolves."

Nothing had been news to her until he mentioned something about wolves. Why was everyone saying that lately? This guy was probably on crack or worse yet he was probably one of the rapists he was trying to warn her about or something. "That's fantastic, jackass but since you seem to think you know me, maybe you'd know that I've been doing this my entire life. I have yet to be raped or murdered. I don't know why you care or why you even know my name but just leave me be." She moved past and began to stalk off but found herself turning around to look at him, "What are the wolves? Are they those big mutant dog things?"

He put his hands in his pockets and smirked at her, "Nah, they're people. Some with mutant aspects I'm sure. They'll come for you, Adelaide. They come for everyone. You'll know them when you see them."

"Can't wait." She had sarcastically muttered before dismissively rolling her eyes. He smiled at her reply and she turned away. When she had looked back over her shoulder, he was gone.

Adelaide hadn't really taken him too seriously then but now she wondered who he had been. Though she had already knew things he had said, they had been things she had pushed to the back of her mind. Her and Elijah were both minorities in this world. She had been taught from young that walking alone as a woman night or day could mean getting attacked by someone. Years ago, this would result in jail time for the attacker. Now many women were taken advantage of and killed and there was nothing anyone did to stop it. Some were taken in as little house pets for men. Then other women along with men were murdered by bandits desperate for food and supplies. This world was always dangerous for anyone.

And Elijah... He was very lucky she had found him. Kids were a burden to people nowadays. They weren't expected to be of much use. The lucky ones were brought to small towns where already pregnant women could take care of them. She knew this much from being brought to one as baby. She remembered the woman who took her in had been named Anna and she had lots of other kids. Adelaide supposed this was supposed to be some sort of re-population attempt. There were many attempts at this but she always thought they had been dumb since it just created more mouths to feed.

"Probably some bandit gang that thinks they're all that because they can do what they want since there is no one to stop them."Adelaide finally answered. "Let's get going. We'll stop in town and see if there's anything but if not, we're walking and we're not stopping. I want to get there already. "

"I think they're way worse than that."Elijah had whispered under his breath but Adelaide did not hear him. She had walked ahead already. He quickly jogged up to catch up to her. He hated going into the small trading towns. There were fewer and fewer people with each one they went to. Not only that, but the people looked more terrified with every town as well.

---

The duo had been traveling for an hour or so now. They trudged across the roadways littered with ruined vehicles, checking quite a few along the way for any useful supplies. Little turned up, but that was probably to be expected. After a time, they'd gotten around to descending into an underpass below what, back in the days of old, would have been a loud, bustling interconnection of highways.

Underneath the shade of the bridges overhead, Bozak and Atlas took a moment to rest. And, as it seemed like a good idea at the time, Bozak decided to socialize with his new buddy for a bit.

"Atlas having fun?" Bozak asked, setting himself on the roof of a car. The dog didn't issue much of a reply besides tilting his head and whining a bit, muzzle pointed at the man's pocket.

"Ehhhh, fine." Bozak replied, taking out the bundle of deer jerky and tossing a couple to Atlas, who proceeded to go at them heartily. Bozak eyed the remaining jerky and decided, while he was still in relative isolation, he might as well have the rest for himself now. He grasped his gas mask at the filter and tilted it upwards, revealing nothing but a heavily scarred jaw, and the faint ends of two tattoos running down from his cheeks. He shoved the rest of the deer jerky into his mouth and pulled the mask back down, commencing with the chewing.

All gone. Now Atlas had no reason to whine for more. But it wouldn't stop the duo from hunting for more meat. And little did they know, meat would soon come straight to them.

Atlas's ears perked up as he aimed his head around the car and issued a growl. Bozak looked at him for only a moment before hopping up and prepping his shotgun. The two watched the far end of the underpass as something sounded in the distance. Like the cars ahead were being pushed aside by some force. Turns out that force was a car itself. The duo moved out of the way as a large, heavily outfitted truck barged straight through their prior location, the ram on its front side shoving the other cars along. Bozak and Atlas both watched as the truck skidded to a halt, then noticing the cargo it was carrying. Deer carcasses, as well as those of other random fauna, all tossed into the back of the pickup.

The driver side door flew open, and a lean man wearing a gray apron and a welding mask over his face peaked outside.

"Hey!" He called out in a fast, jovial tone, "You wanna ride, brother-man?"

James Cooper

---

August 18, 2039, Approximately 10:00 AM
Central Brooklyn

James picked over the contents of a musty apartment building rife with the smell of mold. Several stairs had broken on his way up and he didn't feel particularly comfortable with the way the floor kept squishing under his feet. Or the fact that the ceiling was dripping, for that matter. As yet another droplet of water that smelled of death fell from above and onto his head, James scowled and put up the hood to his grey sweatshirt. Then promptly sneezed it off. This floor's food had pretty much turned into lumpy piles of mold or dust, and it was really irritating his sinuses.

Pushing his hood back on, James began the trek back downstairs, hammer in hand. This building had been a bust. A shame, since it had taken him about as long to get there as it had to search the building. He wondered to himself if this perhaps meant other people had gotten there first, then if the floors above had contained anything of worth. Probably, but thinking about it was an exercise in futility as those floors didn't exist anymore, collapsed in rubble atop the thin ceilings above him. Whether it had been bombs or rot that caused it was anyone's guess; the area around it was similarly in disrepair.

As he reached the entrance to the building, James could hear the crackling in the distance again. Today was his lucky day! The more the crackles, the more the food. That was how it had always worked in the past, at least. Grinning broadly and with a spring in his step, James continued on. The next building over was a music shop. Useless. Nothing in there ever worked, and they never had anything edible. Plus he couldn't even read any books they had. Letdowns, every single time.

Hearing a rumble in the distance, he stopped. Rain? Or was it something else? That kind of rumble didn't happen very often, and hearing it together with so much crackling confused him. Was it a good sign or not? The popping noises were getting louder, too. For some reason, they seemed a lot less comforting now. More...dangerous.

For a brief moment, everything went quiet. No pops. No chirping of birds or rustling of plastic in the wind. Not even his own footsteps. Just the distant rumble and the sun creating the buildings across the street.

Then all hell broke loose.

The crackling, much louder than it had ever been before, assaulted James's ears. Bursts of light shone in the corner of his eye, coming from up the road. All he wanted was to run, flee, get away from them, but his feet remained plated right where they were. Trying desperately and hopelessly to block the sound from his head, he dropped his sledgehammer and shoved his hands over his ears. Eyes scrunched shut tightly in terror, the world became nothing more than a cacophony of explosions going off inside his head, bright stabs of pain burning his eyes and temples. His head pounded, panic flowing through his veins, and James did the only thing he could think to do. He screamed. As loud as he could. The loudest noise he had made in the last two years, still barely audible above the thunder-cracks of guns firing so close by. And then he could hear nothing. His eyes relaxed, still shut. His arms loosened at his sides. His hands unclenched. And his head hit the pavement.