The days had blurred together. Alex and Elena moved through the empty streets, their steps deliberate, their minds always alert. They had become a strange team, their goals diverging yet strangely intertwined. Alex searched for supplies, for any clue that could lead him to safety or answers. Elena? She searched for order, for a semblance of control in a world that seemed determined to slip through her fingers.
It was a quiet morning when they came across them.
At first, Alex thought his eyes were deceiving him. He was scouting ahead, peering into a narrow street when he saw movement. Children? No. It couldn't be.
"Hey, Elena," he whispered, his voice urgent, but careful not to alarm the group. Elena joined him, her posture stiff as she scanned the street.
There, huddled together in the ruins of what appeared to be a makeshift shelter, were a half-dozen children. They ranged in age, the youngest no older than five, their faces dirty and weary. They looked malnourished, their clothes torn, but they were alive. That was the one thing Alex couldn't ignore. They were still breathing.
The smallest, a girl with wide, fearful eyes, clutched a stuffed animal to her chest. Her face was smeared with dirt, and her clothes were nothing more than rags, but she had a look of defiance in her gaze that seemed out of place on someone so young.
Alex's heart tightened. It was hard to believe that children—barely old enough to remember a time before all of this—had managed to survive. In a world where every day was a fight, how had they made it this far?
Elena was already moving forward, her footsteps resolute. "Stay back," she muttered to Alex, as if it was instinct. She knew better than anyone that the survivors of this world weren't always what they appeared to be. People were desperate. People were dangerous.
But these children? They didn't seem dangerous. They seemed… lost.
Alex didn't argue. He followed, keeping a safe distance as Elena approached the group.
The children noticed her immediately, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and curiosity. The youngest one—probably no older than six—took a cautious step forward, clutching the stuffed animal in both hands.
"Who are you?" Elena asked, her tone steady but not unkind. "Where are your parents?"
The girl didn't respond. Instead, another child—a boy with a deep scar running across his cheek—spoke up. His voice was quiet, but it carried weight. "There's no one. They're gone."
Elena's jaw tightened. Alex could see the internal battle waging in her eyes. She wasn't one to show weakness, but there was a flicker of something in her gaze. Pity? Compassion? It was hard to say.
"What happened to them?" Alex asked, stepping closer. He kept his voice gentle, careful not to sound threatening.
The boy didn't answer immediately. He glanced at the others, as if deciding whether or not to trust them. Finally, he spoke again. "Raids. People came through, took what they wanted. Left us here."
Alex felt a lump form in his throat. He had heard stories of the ruthless groups roaming the wasteland, taking whatever they could, leaving destruction in their wake. But hearing it from a child hit differently.
"We're gonna be okay," the boy added, though his words sounded more like a hope than a certainty. He couldn't have been more than twelve.
"You're not alone," Elena said, her voice softer now. She seemed to be making an unspoken decision. She knelt down to the child's level, keeping her gun out of sight, but her body tense and ready for anything. "You and your friends, you'll be safe with us for now."
The group of children didn't protest. They simply nodded, their faces a mixture of exhaustion and cautious optimism. Elena looked back at Alex. "We can't leave them here."
Alex didn't argue. In a world where even adults couldn't be trusted, these kids didn't stand a chance on their own. But he knew that bringing them along would complicate things. Supplies were already scarce, and now they had a new responsibility.
As the children gathered around Elena, Alex could see the shift in her demeanor. She had become protective, almost motherly. It was a side of Elena he hadn't expected. She had always been tough, distant—only concerned with surviving. But now, she seemed to take on a new role, one she wasn't used to.
Alex watched her closely. "You don't have to do this," he said quietly. "We can leave them. It's too dangerous."
Elena's eyes flicked to him, cold and calculating, but there was something behind them now—a vulnerability she hadn't shown before. "I know what I'm doing, Alex. They need help."
He wanted to argue. He wanted to point out how much more dangerous this would make things for them. But something in her eyes stopped him. He had seen that look before—the one that said she wouldn't back down.
The children were already moving, following Elena as if she were their guide, their protector in this fractured world. Alex didn't know what to feel. Part of him felt responsible for them now, as much as he hadn't wanted to. But the other part of him—deep down—feared what this would mean.
More mouths to feed. More risks to take. And in the end, were they really doing the right thing by keeping them alive?
He didn't have the answer.