" The Brace of Shadows"

Alex stumbled into the makeshift safe zone, his legs aching with every step. The world around him was quiet, almost too quiet. The hum of the wind was heard from afar, disturbed only by the occasional groan of a mutated creature from somewhere beyond the rusted barricades. The safe zone was a cluster of old military trucks and shanty tents, nestled in what used to be a suburban neighborhood-now a war-torn ghost town.

His stomach growled, a painful reminder that he looked like he hadn't eaten in over two days. He hardly noticed the tattered clothes clinging to his lean body or the fresh dirt across his face. Now, the only companion he had was hunger. His throat was parched, and his energy ran on fumes. All he could think about was food.

His eyes scanned the area, his mind racing to assess the situation. This safe zone wasn't the most secure-it never was. The infected, mutated zombies that once had been human, roamed the outskirts, always a threat just beyond the horizon. But here, for now, Alex was safe. Safe enough to think, to breathe, and-he hoped-safe enough to find food.

The deeper into the area he went, the more remnants of old fire pits caught his eye-leftovers from some long-ago effort to cook food. A few cans of food lay scattered in the dirt, abandoned and forgotten. Some were crushed, others dented, but all that did not matter to Alex. The hunger was too strong, and his focus was sharp as a knife.

He knelt beside a tarp nearby and cautiously lifted it, looking underneath. His trembling fingers brushed across a rusted can of metal. He smiled with the expression foreign upon his face. Canned beans: they had been left behind, probably by someone too weak to carry them further or that they forgot or by some urgency.

Alex gripped the can with both hands, his fingers raw from the constant friction of holding onto weapons and the marathon he had after came into this world. Standing, his knees popped with effort, and he moved to something like a fire pit at the center of the safe zone. The old embers still smoldered faintly, and the surrounding stones had a dull, grayish hue from years of use. He still couldn't belive it he made it that far. He kept looking around to find something to put so he can heat it but sadly nothing was on for cooking, he had no other choice-he'd have to open the can without heating.

He used the knife he had and a piece of metal lying on the ground, prying. The sound of scraping metal still echoed in the stillness, and Alex paused awhile, listening. Silence, but not the oppressive, foreboding kind-silence that settles down in the air. He blew out a breath slowly and resumed; the lid finally relented with a soft popping sound.

Ah finally he said weakly smilling to himself . He started digging

They were cold, slimy beans, and, to Alex, they became a godsend. Every second counted. He dunked his hand deep inside the can, scraping and digging thick gelatinous clumps out, cramming them into his mouth eagerly, desperate for nourishment; food he never dreamed of maybe finding at this juncture; there simply was no other choice-he needed fuel.

With each bite, some of the strength began to return to his body. The muscles stiffened by days of tension loosened just a little. His vision clarified, and the haze of exhaustion that had dogged his thoughts began to lift. The world, still hazardous, was not as desolate anymore with the food in his belly.

He sat on the ground, his back against a car, his eyes scanning the desolate landscape before him. The ruins of the world seemed to stretch endlessly before him. Some of the building structures far away stood half-collapsed, their windowpanes shattered, their frames twisted and broken. It was in the silence that Alex found a moment of peace, his body and mind focused on the now.

For a few minutes, he allowed himself to rest. To simply be.

But there was no time for real rest. Alex knew better than to get too comfortable. The infected, mutated, grotesque versions of humanity were always drawn to movement, to sound, to life. And the safe zone wasn't immune to their hunger.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pushed the empty can aside with his elbow. Now let's go, The small meal had bought him some more time, but it didn't last long. On his feet, he goes, and keeps moving:.

Alex stood, his gaze straying again to the horizon. There was still so much he was supposed to get to: stock up on more supplies and food, and maybe join something that resembled safety once more. The safe zone might hold for a good while longer, but really, nothing was permanent any longer in this world. It was like one's existence hung in a flimsy balance.

For the moment, the hunger had vanished. But as for survival, that was another matter altogether. Alex finally looked away, his gaze toward the emptiness that surrounded him. His boots crunched in broken asphalt with every step he made, a quiet reminder that this fight for his life wasn't over, it had just begun. He scanned the area for a place to rest, eyes darting to a dilapidated building nearby. As he noticed the roof had fallen in in places but provided some shelter. That's a chance to close his eyes for a moment without the constant threat of exposure. He made his way toward it, every step measured, every sense alert.

Inside, dust was hanging in the air like a shroud. Alex found a nook, nestled between some abandoned furniture and trash. It was little, but it was sufficient to hide him from view. He curled into a ball, wrapping his jacket around him for warmth. His body screamed for rest, but his mind would not let him fully relax. Sleep would have to wait. For now, he could shut his eyes, for just a few moments, till the world came crashing back. His eyes fluttered shut, and his thoughts went backward in time-to a period before he'd ended it-to this world that had fallen apart, a time when everything had seemed normal-safe.