Darker Days

Chapter 10: The Old Man

As the sun rose higher in the sky, casting a pale light over the ruined city, Tommy and Frank knew it was time to move. They had survived the night, but the memory of the distant gunshots and the ever-present danger weighed heavily on them. With careful, quiet movements, they packed up their meager camp, making sure not to leave anything behind.

Tommy slung his pack over his shoulder, checking his pistol one last time before tucking it into his waistband. Frank did the same with his rifle, giving it a final inspection before nodding to Tommy. "Let's get going," Frank said, his voice low and serious.

They made their way down the stairs of the building, each step echoing softly in the quiet stairwell. The tension was palpable—both of them were on edge, knowing the city was far from safe. The stairwell was dimly lit, with sunlight barely filtering through the cracked windows. Dust clung to the air, and the silence was almost suffocating, as if the building itself was holding its breath.

Every sound felt amplified—the creak of a step, the rustle of their packs—and both Tommy and Frank moved cautiously, always ready for something to jump out at them. They had learned early on that in this world, you could never let your guard down, not even for a moment.

When they finally reached the ground floor, Tommy paused at the door, his hand hovering over the handle. He glanced at Frank, who gave him a silent nod, his rifle raised and ready. Tommy took a deep breath and opened the door slowly, peeking outside before stepping into the open.

The city felt eerily quiet. The streets were as lifeless as they had been the day before—abandoned cars, crumbling buildings, and the occasional patch of overgrown grass. But that didn't mean they were safe. The gunshots from the previous night had proven that they weren't alone here.

Tommy and Frank moved in unison, staying close to the sides of buildings and keeping to the shadows. Every sense was heightened, every movement measured. They were on high alert, ready to defend themselves at a moment's notice. The weight of their weapons felt reassuring, but they both knew that if it came down to a firefight, their chances weren't great.

The streets stretched ahead of them, a maze of broken glass, debris, and reminders of a life that had been abruptly cut short. They passed a burned-out car, its doors open and the inside charred beyond recognition. Tommy couldn't help but glance at the abandoned buildings, wondering who had lived here, what their lives had been like before everything collapsed.

"Stay close," Frank murmured as they approached a corner, his eyes scanning the street ahead. Tommy nodded, his hand resting on the grip of his pistol, ready to draw it in an instant.

They turned the corner cautiously, but the street ahead was just as deserted. A small sigh of relief escaped Tommy, but it didn't last long. The tension in the air was thick, and every shadow seemed to hold the possibility of danger.

They continued moving, their pace slow and deliberate. Each step forward was another reminder that they were on borrowed time. Supplies were running low, and the further they ventured into the city, the more dangerous it felt. But there was no turning back.

As they crossed an open section of road, Frank stopped suddenly, holding up a hand. Tommy froze, his pulse quickening as he followed Frank's gaze.

There, a few hundred feet down the street, movement. A figure darted between two buildings, disappearing just as quickly as they had appeared.

"Did you see that?" Tommy whispered, his heart racing.

Frank nodded, his grip tightening on the rifle. "Yeah. Could be anyone. Stay sharp."

They waited for a few moments, watching the street carefully, but the figure didn't reappear. Whoever they were, they had either moved on or were waiting, hidden in the shadows.