In a world ravaged by flesh-eaters, 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙮𝙣 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙚, a nineteen year old orphaned girl, and 𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙧 𝙍𝙚𝙞𝙙 𝙒𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙚𝙧, a thirty eight year old hardened commander, fight for survival. Taking a young orphan, named 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙮, unde...
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The low hum of the television buzzed in the background, a news report drifting over the static. "...another victim succumbed to the flesh-eaters this morning..." Hayley, perched beside me on the worn bed, didn't flinch. We both knew the news wouldn't hold anything good.
With a sigh that felt heavy in my 19-year-old chest, I reached out and clicked the TV off. The silence settled like a shroud, thick and heavy. It had been only a month since the virus claimed my parents, leaving me here in Sanctuary - a haven carved out of the ruins of the old world, a world choked by the flesh-eating plague.
"Hayley, Evelyn" a voice called from the doorway. It was Sarah, the dorm leader, her smile strained as she looked between us. "Breakfast is ready in the main hall. Everyone has to be there."
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The common dining hall was a microcosm of what remained of humanity. Tables were segregated, a stark reminder of the old societal lines that even the apocalypse couldn't erase. We, the new arrivals, were still unplaced, hovering at the edge like unclaimed luggage. Hayley and I found a table close to the entrance, the worn wood cool beneath our palms. The "food" - a bland, beige stew and a slab of protein paste-bread - fueled our bodies but offered little joy.
I stirred the stew with my spoon, lost in thought. Suddenly, the speakers crackled to life. All conversation ceased as Mr. Gerard Walter, the Sanctuary President, took center stage on the raised platform. Beside him stood Miss Fadel, the ever-stern Chief Doctor, and a young man but older than me, his face unfamiliar. My curiosity piqued.
"Hayley," I whispered, leaning closer, "who's that guy?"
She shrugged, her brow furrowed. "Don't know."
President Walter's voice boomed through the hall, the weight of his words heavy. "...unfortunately, the recent mutation of the virus has proven more aggressive than we anticipated. Resources are dwindling... a group must venture to the surface..."
A collective gasp rippled through the room. A surface run was a dangerous gamble, a necessity fueled by desperation. President Walter introduced the young man. "This is Spencer Reid Walter, your new Chief Defense Commander, following the tragic loss of Mr. Harrington."
Spencer's gaze swept across the room, landing on me for a fleeting moment. A shiver danced down my spine, not from fear, but from something I couldn't quite define. He continued, his voice a deep baritone that sent a jolt through the girls, including me. "Six volunteers are needed for the surface run. Meet me at the training grounds tomorrow at noon."
His eyes met mine again, a flicker of something complex in their depths. Then, with a nod, he followed President Walter and Dr. Fadel from the hall. My breath caught in my throat as he disappeared through the doorway.
"Intense, huh?" Hayley nudged my arm, a mischievous grin playing on her lips.
I swallowed hard. "Yeah," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. "Intense."
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