Mr. Cee-Ar-Tee led us through the ruins of the old town, deeper into unfamiliar territory. He carried an axe in one hand, and on his back hung a self-made, single-barrel shotgun for emergencies.

Beside me, Cee-too swung his iron pipe as if it were a toy, its curved handle nearly as tall as he was. Mine was simpler—just a straight pipe. I made sure of it. Couldn’t have him accusing me of copying.

As we walked, he leaned close, whispering, “Hey, Kaodin. You think we’ll find canned meat or maybe cola this time? I’m dying for a sip of something sweet… anything that isn’t glowing.”

I smirked. ““I’d settle for your mom’s cooking.”

Cee-too burst out laughing. “Hah! You know just how to butter her up. She’ll be over the moon if I tell her you said that.”

“Quiet.” Mr. Cee-Ar-Tee’s voice cut through our chatter like a blade. “We’re close now. Eyes sharp. This is new ground. Ruffians prowl here.”

He made a quick hand signal—two fingers to his eyes, then pointing toward a collapsed building at the corner of the road.

The old man’s gaze swept across the wreckage. “That warehouse ahead… used to be wholesale. I came here once, long ago. Before… all this.”

We crept closer. I caught sight of what had once been an auto repair shop, now twisted into a ruffian lair. Burned-out tires, sending smoke into the air. Oil barrels ringed a makeshift camp. Blood stained the stacked cages nearby. The stench was enough to make me gag; I pulled my scarf tight around my nose and forced myself to keep scanning the shadows.

Mr. Cee-Ar-Tee crouched low, waiting for us to catch up. “Not through the front,” he whispered. “We’ll take the back. Car exit, not the entrance.”

We moved when he moved, darting from debris to debris, crawling under rubble, crouching behind shattered walls. Every sound felt too loud, every breath like a beacon.

“The ruffians are out hunting,” the old man said quietly. His eyes hardened. “These people… they’re worse than death. Never let them take you. Ever.”

At last we reached the rear—an underground parking ramp choked with moss and damp air. The silence pressed in heavy. No voices. No footsteps. Still, we kept on guard.

For a moment I thought we’d struck gold—no scavengers, no guards. But then the shadows twitched.

Several carcasses began to stir. Bone cracked, sinew stretched, rotten torsos lifting from the floor. Their eyes were blind, but their ears caught the faint scrape of our boots.

Mr. Cee-Ar-Tee motioned with his axe. Practice.

I nodded to Cee-too and gestured. I’d throw a pebble, he’d flank. I pitched the stone into the far corner—clack. The carcasses turned at the sound. But before they shifted, Cee-too’s foot clipped an empty bottle. It skittered across the floor, ringing like a bell.

The creatures jerked, snapping their heads our way.

No choice now. I rushed forward. My pipe drove through the nape of the nearest fiend. It convulsed, then collapsed. I braced a foot on its body, wrenching the pipe free.

Cee-too moved almost in rhythm, swinging his curved pipe hard into another’s skull. Bone cracked; the thing toppled with a wet thud.

We turned, expecting a signal of approval. Instead, Mr. Cee-Ar-Tee was already sprinting toward us. He seized us both by the waist, hauling us toward a gap in the collapsed wall.

I caught a glimpse over my shoulder—more carcasses, dozens of them, crawling over each other, gnawing on the remains of their kin. They rose as one, heads snapping in our direction.

But before they could see us fully, we were through the gap, swallowed by darkness inside the building.

My chest heaved, heart racing. I forced my breath slow, controlled—inhale, exhale, silent as I could. From my pack I drew a water bottle, took a sip, then passed it to Cee-too. He grinned in gratitude, gulped, and handed it on.

Mr. Cee-Ar-Tee only shook his head, smiling faintly, and tapped the pouch strapped to his chest. He kept both hands free for what mattered most—survival.

“You boys did well,” he said quietly. “But remember this—out here, trust only yourselves. Never depend on mercy, and never let your guard down. Not once.”

Cee-too shot me a grin. I couldn’t help but laugh softly with him, a spark of pride between us. Looting was rare enough. Fighting Carcasses rarer still.

For me, thrown into this broken world barely three months ago, it was terrifying. But with Cee-too and Mr. Cee-Ar-Tee at my side, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time.

Grateful.

And determined.