Chasing Tomorrow

Chapter 2

PRESENT - 2043

Three years. It's been three years since the world ended, and I'm still here, somehow. But every day, it feels like I'm holding on by the thinnest thread. I'm not even sure why I'm still fighting. There's no one left to fight for. Not my friends. Not my parents.

Mom and Dad—they're gone too. I try not to think about it, but their faces come back to me when I least expect it. Sometimes, in the dead of night, I'll hear Mom's voice, calm and soothing, the way it used to be when I was little. Or I'll picture Dad, his strong arms lifting me up when I fell. But those are just ghosts now. Memories. The reality of how they died—how they left me—still haunts me.

Since then, I've been alone. Truly alone. There are other survivors out there, sure. I've seen them. Met some, even. But most of us are too broken, too afraid, or too focused on surviving to form any real connections. It's hard to trust anyone now. Every person you meet is a risk. Sometimes they turn out to be desperate, dangerous. Other times... they don't make it.

I remember one woman I met not too long ago. Her name was Sarah. She was older, maybe in her late thirties, with sunken eyes and hands that shook whenever she spoke. She'd lost her family too. We found each other scavenging through the remains of an old supermarket. There wasn't much left, just cans of spoiled food and broken shelves. But for a brief moment, we shared a fire, shared stories. She told me about her daughter, how she used to braid her hair just like mine. For a second, I felt... connected. Like maybe I wasn't so alone.

But it never lasts, does it? One night, while we were hiding in the shell of an abandoned house, the monsters came again. They always do. Sarah didn't make it. She tried to run, but she wasn't fast enough, and I... I couldn't save her. I had to keep going. Keep surviving. Just like Mom told me.

There have been others too, people I've crossed paths with for a fleeting moment—some kind, some cruel. But in the end, it's always the same. We part ways, or they don't survive. It's like the world doesn't want us to find each other. Like the monsters aren't just killing us—they're making sure we die alone.

And now... now it's just me. Every day is a battle. Every day I wake up, unsure if it'll be my last. I scavenge for food, keep my head down, stay quiet. It's all I know how to do anymore. The cities are dead, nothing but crumbled ruins and ghostly silence. The monsters own everything now. But somehow, I'm still here. I don't know if that makes me lucky or just cursed.

꧁

The forest has been my home for days now. Not that it's much of a home—just trees, endless trees, and the sound of monsters in the distance, always too close for comfort. I hate it here. It's too quiet, too alive in all the wrong ways. No place to really hide, not for long, and I can't hunt worth anything. I've never been able to.

Right now, I've stepped into the river, watching the water as it rushes past me. It's clear enough that I can see the fish darting through it, their silver bodies flashing in the sunlight. They look so close, like I could just reach in and grab one. I've been telling myself that for the past hour. It's not true. They're too fast. Too slippery. Every time I plunge my hands in, they scatter like they're laughing at me, disappearing into the shadows beneath the rocks. My stomach growls, and I try to ignore it. I'm used to that sound by now, the hollow ache that never really goes away. At least the river's water is clean. I've been drinking it, but I need more than that. I need food. Real food. My hands hover over the water again, fingers trembling. Come on... I just need one.