Elias traveled in silence.
The road was a dry river of cracked asphalt, cutting through a world that no longer remembered what it was. Ruins became distant ghosts, and every wooden cross stuck in the ground whispered: "someone tried."
Grimm trotted ahead, alert to every sound. Ash stayed closer to Elias, sniffing the air, restless. The wind blew from the east, carrying the scent of old fire.
The file bearing the name Dr. Calvin Morrow weighed heavier than the rifle on his back.
Some names should have stayed buried.
Morrow was one of them.
Elias remembered the laboratory. The sterile white lights. The voices too calm for the things they were doing.
He never knew everything — only enough to become the result.
The only result.
They had been walking for hours when they saw the smoke.
A black column rose behind a hill.
Elias lifted his rifle. Grimm froze. Ash stood still.
They climbed slowly, step by step. The dead grass made little sound.
At the top, they saw what remained: a toppled metal wagon, supplies scattered, and bodies. Three.
Two adults. One child.
Elias descended the hill without a word.
The smell of burned flesh was strong, but he was used to it.
He examined the bodies. The wounds weren't from gunfire. They were cuts — deep, dry, precise.
Grimm growled low. Ash circled nervously.
"This wasn't a simple robbery," Elias muttered to himself.
Something had been left behind: a symbol, carved into the wagon.
An upside-down triangle with a dot at its center.
Elias stared at it.
He had seen it before.
Long ago, even before the final collapse.
"They're moving again…"
Grimm crept closer, ears perked. Ash stayed alert.
"Let's go. It's not safe here."
They moved on without looking back.
But in Elias's chest, something old stirred.
The past wasn't buried.
It was coming straight for him.
---
If you're enjoying this story, don't forget to vote with PowerStones!
---