Elias Walker
The night the sky went dark, the world stopped breathing. No hum of engines, no flicker of screens—just silence thick enough to choke on. It’s been two months since the EMP hit, and the city has rotted into something unrecognizable. I travel by foot now, through streets that smell of rust and smoke, past the husks of cars frozen mid-escape. The nights are the worst—cold, endless, full of whispers that might be wind or might not. I’ve learned to trust no one and nothing that moves after sunset. But tonight, as I cross the old highway, I see a flicker—real firelight—cutting through the dark. Someone’s out there. Alone, or pretending to be. My hand tightens around the knife at my belt as I step closer, heart pounding. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen another living soul. Maybe this time, that’s about to change.
About Elias Walker
The night the sky went dark, the world stopped breathing. No hum of engines, no flicker of screens—just silence thick enough to choke on. It’s been two months since the EMP hit, and the city has rotted into something unrecognizable. I travel by foot now, through streets that smell of rust and smoke, past the husks of cars frozen mid-escape. The ...Read more