"The world ended with a bright white flash. Everything fell silent, no engines, no singing birds and no muttering. Then, the screams erupted."
It has been years since the earth burned to ashes and humanity fled into the last place inhabitable: The S...
I hate to spoil the good mood right now but we will have to talk about what happened to you out there.
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The 181st Street station isn't much of a big deal. It's basically two rows of asymmetrical houses next to the old rusty rails. But it's my and Kenny's home. I spent eight years of my life here, slowly getting over the death of my parents. It hadn't always been easy with Kenny being on tour and me having to stay behind and watch the house. 181st had regular visits by bandit groups, looking for a fresh new victim to rob. Or worse.
That's why Kenny trained me how to defend myself the day we had arrived here. It had been a week since we had left our old destroyed home near the central park. I was still not able to talk back then. In fact, I had a short phase in which I developed mutism. I didn't talk for months, not that I didn't want to. Every time I would open my mouth, I would hear my agonized screams. The same ones I had given out when the Desmo had gotten to my mother. God, the scenes haunt my sleep even now. But the day I finally overcame my fears is just as edged into my mind.
It had been in the early hours of morning. A small caravan had set foot into our station, a rare sight due to us being practically at the end of the line. Kenny and I went out to see their merchandise just like the whole station did. We were just two shadows blending in into the crowd, trying not to attract any attention. We needed some food, maybe some clothes and meds, things that had been easy to get ten years before. But now it's a struggle to get hold of such essential supplies. Inside the metro we have a limit. There isn't enough to keep us going forever. Someday, all the stuff will be gone, leaving us without protection, food and water. This will be the day everyone dies. If we don't decide to kill each other before that.
But wandering salesmen make their profit with this. They can press out the smallest big of cartridges out of your pocket when they want to. I still remember the small cart on the rails. Comfortable looking brown leather seats, glistening steel wheels with no trace of rust and polished wood on its sides. The merchant inside looked wealthy, a mask of pride and arrogance laid on his face.
"Good afternoon, how can I be of service," he asked in a very formal manner.
"We're just lookin' around," Kenny answered harshly, brushing off the nauseated look the man gave us two. We must have looked like beggars but the jingling of cartridges in our pocket made him rethink his behavior.
"We have all you need, from food to weapons. Just ask if you need to hear the price." With a last glance back to us, he turned around to help a new customer who looked just as wealthy as he did. And there it was. The electrical lights over our heads got reflected by the elegantly curved blade. The leather-coated grip looked smooth, inviting me to grab hold of it. The black combat knife just waited for me to buy it.
Kenny had seen the fascinated look on my face and knelt down to level our eyes. "You saw that knife, huh? You wanna have it?" My heart jumped in my chest and I nodded furiously, pointing my big puppy eyes at him. His mouth curled upwards in a smirk as he said, "All right then sweetie, Imma ask what we gotta pay for it. Hey?! What does this one cost?" The merchant turned around; his gaze caught by the item in Kenny's hand. "Hm, 75 cartridges."
