**Chapter 2 : The modern man**

  The wind howled through the ruins of Arkadia as Alex trudged on, his footsteps echoing against the hollowed-out skeletons of once-grand buildings. The weight of the world seemed to rest on his shoulders, but the more he walked, the more he realized how futile it all seemed. His prosthetic arm was a constant reminder of his failure—a broken piece of metal and plastic, unable to carry the weight of his own survival.

  The world had become a series of disjointed fragments. Memories of better times clung to the edges of his mind, but the present was a cruel reality. Food was scarce. Water was a luxury. And every day, every hour, was a struggle to survive. The world was no longer just a place to live. It was a battlefield, where only the strongest remained standing, and Alex was no longer one of them.

  ---

  As Alex wandered deeper into the city, he noticed something unsettling: the absence of human life. The once-bustling streets, filled with the sounds of laughter, commerce, and life, were now eerily silent. Even the outlaws who had once roamed the streets, scavenging for scraps, seemed to have vanished. It was as if the city itself had been abandoned, left to rot in the wake of the apocalypse.

  He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. His instincts, honed over years of survival, screamed at him to leave. But where could he go? There was nowhere left to run. No one to turn to.

  The thought weighed heavily on him. Every step felt like a battle, every breath like a struggle to keep moving forward. The days blurred together, each one indistinguishable from the next. He had no purpose, no direction, just the crushing realization that the world had forgotten him.

  ---

  It was then, in the heart of the city, that Alex saw them again. Caleb and his group had been searching for supplies, but their eyes—cold, calculating—seemed to lock onto Alex the moment he stepped into their path.

  “You’re still alive, huh?” Caleb’s voice was laced with amusement, a cruel edge to his words. “I thought the streets would’ve swallowed you up by now.”

  Alex felt the blood drain from his face. The past, the humiliation, the times he had begged for mercy—it all rushed back in an instant. The torment, the laughter, the pain of being seen as nothing more than a nuisance, a failure.

  “I—I’m just passing through,” Alex said, his voice trembling. He tried to sound calm, but the fear was palpable in his throat.

  Caleb looked him up and down, his eyes narrowing. “Passing through?” he repeated. “You’ve been ‘passing through’ for years, Alex. Just wandering from place to place. But that’s not how the world works anymore. You want to survive, you’ll have to do more than just exist.”

  Alex’s heart pounded in his chest. He knew what Caleb was getting at, the unspoken words hanging in the air like a threat. His life, his worth—everything was on the line now.

  “Maybe we could use someone like you,” Caleb said, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “You’ve got the experience, right? You’ve survived. You can help us find what we need.”

  Alex swallowed, his throat dry. He didn’t trust them. He never had. But the desperation gnawed at him. The hunger, the cold, the loneliness—it was all too much. He had nothing left but his will to survive.

  “Fine,” Alex whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ll help. Just don’t leave me out here.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Caleb’s grin widened. “Good. You’ll be useful to us. You’ll earn your place in this world, Alex. But you’ll have to prove you’re worth keeping around.”

  ---

  The days that followed were grueling. Alex’s body screamed with exhaustion as he worked alongside Caleb and his group, scavenging through the rubble of the city, searching for anything that might help them survive. Every day was the same: hard labor, constant threat of the infected, and the ever-present knowledge that he was expendable. Caleb had made that clear from the start.

  As Alex hunted through the ruins for food, he began to realize the brutal truth: Caleb didn’t care about him. He was a tool, nothing more. A means to an end. And when he was no longer useful, he would be discarded, just like everyone else.

  There was no loyalty in this world—only survival.

  One night, as they made camp in the wreckage of an old apartment building, Alex sat alone, his mind racing. The flickering campfire cast long shadows across the room, the silence oppressive. He had no place here. No real friends. No allies.

  The world had taken everything from him, and now, even his dignity was slipping through his fingers. He wasn’t just struggling for survival anymore. He was struggling to hold onto something—anything—that would remind him he was still human.

  The flames danced before him, and he thought of the old world—the one he had lost. He remembered the sound of his daughter’s laugh, the warmth of his wife’s embrace, the way everything had seemed possible. That world was gone, and in its place was this cold, unforgiving wasteland. And in that wasteland, he had no place.

  ---

  The next morning, Caleb assigned Alex to a dangerous mission. They needed supplies, and the infected were moving in droves, making it nearly impossible to scavenge without risking death. But Caleb had no intention of sending anyone else. He wanted Alex to be the distraction.

  “Go out there,” Caleb said, his voice devoid of empathy. “Make some noise. Draw the infected away so we can get what we need.”

  “What?” Alex’s heart skipped a beat. “I—I can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Do it, Alex. Or you won’t have a place here anymore,” Caleb said, his voice cold, his eyes never leaving Alex’s.

  Alex’s stomach churned. He knew what was happening. He wasn’t being given a chance to prove himself—he was being used. His life meant nothing to Caleb. He was expendable.

  With a heavy heart, Alex nodded. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  ---

  Alex ran through the ruined streets, his heart pounding in his chest. The sound of his footsteps seemed deafening in the silence, each one echoing off the walls of the broken buildings. He knew the infected were close. He could hear them—the slow, shuffling gait of their decaying bodies, the low moans that sent shivers down his spine.

  He reached a narrow alleyway, the perfect spot to draw them in. His breathing was shallow, his mind racing. What was the point? What was he trying to prove? He was already a dead man walking.

  He raised his voice, yelling into the emptiness. “Over here! Come and get me!”

  The infected responded almost immediately. Their eyes glowed with hunger, and their jaws snapped open in anticipation. Alex’s pulse quickened. His legs trembled with fear.

  The world had forgotten him. His life meant nothing. His survival was nothing more than a fleeting moment in time, one that would soon be erased.

  And yet, as the infected swarmed around him, something strange happened. He felt the weight of his fear and desperation. He felt the weight of every decision that had led him to this moment. But instead of surrendering to it, he fought.

  He swung his bat, knocking the first infected back. His body was tired, weak, but there was a flicker of something in him—a spark, a will to survive. He wasn’t ready to die. Not yet.

  As the creatures closed in, Alex fought like he never had before, pushing back with everything he had left. His prosthetic arm was clumsy, but it didn’t matter. Every swing was fueled by pure survival.

  But he knew he couldn’t keep this up. The numbers were too great. His body was failing him. He was just one man in a world that had no place for him.

  ---

  The swarm of infected closed in around him, their jaws snapping, their rotting hands reaching for him. Alex’s body was overwhelmed, his strength waning with every passing second. His bat was knocked from his hand, and he fell to the ground, the weight of his failure settling over him like a shroud.

  When the infected finally tore into him, it was over quickly. His body, frail and broken, was consumed in moments. The city of Arkadia was silent once again. The world moved on, uncaring, as it always had.

  And no one, not a single soul, mourned the loss of Alex Carter. He was just another casualty in a world that had long stopped caring about its people.

  ---

  Alex’s heart pounded in his chest, his breaths ragged as he swung his bat with everything he had. His muscles burned, his vision blurred, but he refused to give up. *“Not like this,”* he thought, tears streaming down his face.

  One infected lunged at him, its decayed face inches from his own. Alex swung the bat with a roar, sending the creature sprawling. But for every one he felled, two more took its place.

  And as he lay there, his vision blurring, his breath growing shallow, he thought of nothing but the hopelessness of it all. The world had taken everything from him—his family, his life, his dignity. And now, it was taking his final breath

  As he stumbled, the shard in his backpack began to glow—brighter than ever before. Its light pulsed rhythmically, almost like a heartbeat. Alex felt a surge of warmth spreading through his body, an energy he had never known.

  The shard’s glow enveloped him, and for the first time in twenty years, Alex's consciousness fadded like gas and the shard he had sucked his soul somewhere far yet distant he could see the blue planet and the destruction occurred in those years and he hears some unknown voice talking in unknown language.

  The fires of the past had burned brightly, but now, there was nothing left but ashes. And Alex, like so many before him, was a part of those ashes, drifting away in the wind, forgotten by times

  His journey wasn’t over. It had just begun.

  ---