Through The Ashes

25

Harrem shoved a rifle into the trash bag, giving it a skeptical glance. "I swear, the only thing more messed up than a post-apocalyptic run for supplies is this," he muttered. "Scavenging military-grade weapons with a trash bag like we're on some back-alley grocery run."

Yosef smirked, tossing a box of ammo into the bag. "Hey, at least we're resourceful. Plus, the bag keeps the dust off."

"Right," Harrem said, rolling his eyes. "Because that's what we're worried about—the dust."

Brady snorted, stuffing a pair of pistols into his backpack. "Gotta admit though, it's a new low for humanity. We're basically looting the ruins of the ultra-rich with garbage bags."

Gareth, kneeling beside a case of grenades, grinned as he packed them into his own bag. "Kinda poetic if you think about it. Bet the people who lived here never thought they'd end up supplying the likes of us."

Jorn stood near the entrance, her eyes scanning the room while the others bantered. She leaned against the wall, half-listening, her fingers tapping lightly against the rifle in her hand.

"You gonna contribute to the conversation, Jorn, or just brood like usual?" Harrem called over, his voice teasing but laced with a hint of genuine curiosity.

She gave him a flat look. "Don't you ever get tired of talking? Cause I do."

Gareth chuckled quietly. Harrem smirked, unbothered by Jorn's cold response. "Nah, you know me. Silence makes me nervous. Gotta fill the space with something. Helps with the stress. Right, Brady?"

Brady raised an eyebrow as he packed another box of bullets. "Yeah, well, some of us cope in other ways. Not all of us are chatterboxes like you."

Harrem shrugged, throwing a glance at Jorn, who remained still by the door, her eyes scanning the shadows. "Speaking of coping... wonder how Mara's holding up."

The name cut through the air like a blade, and Jorn's hand tightened imperceptibly on her rifle. Her heart gave a hard thud in her chest, but her expression didn't change. Did he notice how close they were too?

"She's tough," Yosef said, oblivious to the shift in the room as he slung a rifle over his shoulder. "She's way safer than we are, back at camp. She's got the others with her."

"Yeah, but you know how close Mara and Jorn are," Harrem continued, his voice taking on a lighter, teasing tone as he wiped dust off a knife blade. "Bet she's worried sick, waiting for you to come back all heroic-like. Maybe even hoping for a kiss when this is all over."

"You know you're talking about my sister, right?" Gareth said.

Brady chuckled, though it was half-hearted, "Harrem, people can be friends you know. I know you don't have any, but..."

"Sorry Gareth, but your sister's hot," Harrem said.

Jorn's jaw tightened, the muscle in her cheek twitching slightly as Harrem's words hung in the air.

She saw Yosef's glance. She forced herself to stay calm, to keep her expression neutral, but the grip on her rifle tightened enough that her knuckles turned white. Harrem's careless words struck closer than she wanted to admit.

"You done?" Jorn asked sharply, dark eyes narrowing on Harrem.

Harrem blinked, taken aback for just a second. "Dude, I'm just messing around—"

"I said, are you done?" Jorn's voice didn't rise, but the bite in it was unmistakable. The room went still. She didn't break her stare at Harrem, her eyes locked onto his in a way that made it clear this was a warning, not a conversation.