Logan didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke up in the blistering heat, half of his face deep in the soft dirt beneath him. In front of him, just a few meters from his fingertips, were the imposing Outer Walls of his Herd, or what was left of his Herd. The sirens were no longer blaring but the sounds of the Infected inside told him all he needed to know.
The Herd had fallen.
He hadn't realized tears began streaming down his face until they began to stain his shirt. His breaths came out in pants and oxygen refused to enter his lungs. Logan remained on his knees, crouched over himself staring at the silent imposing Walls before him, waiting – hoping – for a sound to exit them besides a growl or a scream.
Logan closed his eyes and focused on regulating his breathing. Life wasn't fair. That was the first lesson he'd been taught inside the Walls. Life wasn't fair. It was cruel and imbalanced and unjust. He just hadn't realized how cruel it could be until now, staring down the Walls which once housed him, and now stood against him.
With a quick twist of his neck and a few satisfying pops, Logan stood and turned his back to the Wall. He surveyed the surrounding area and found himself lost on what to do next. Though he considered himself a loner, Logan was anything but independent. He wished he could see Aly again. She'd know what to do.
Before him lay a vast barren prarie with various scatterings of trees. The larger groupings of trees, Logan surmised, would have to be nourished by a water source of some source, so he'd aim to travel from grouping to grouping. So long as he didn't attract any of the wrong attention from Circles, he could survive until he found the next Herd. He glanced around and found himself drawn to the West, towards a large group of trees a few miles away. Logan began to walk.
The sun beat down on him. His bright ginger hair glued itself to his forehead. Sweat dripped down his face and back, soaking through his dark shirt. He trekked slowly towards the large dark green copse getting closer to him with every step. By the time he felt he was about to fall over from exhaustion, Logan had the ability to reach out and brace himself against the trunk of one of the trees.
He collapsed against the trunk and relished in the protection the shade provided from the blistering heat. Now that he had the chance to control his wheezing, he could hear the faint sounds of a stream running over rocks. Once he got his breath back, Logan pushed himself up from his knees and guided himself towards the sound using the trees for support.
On the opposite side of the wood was what Logan guessed was a tributary leading to a longer river elsewhere. Falling to his knees before the water, Logan dunked his entire head into the rolling water and exhaled a breath of relief as he came up suddenly refreshed. He gulped down a few handfuls of the water, not particularly caring whether it was healthy or not, just relieved that he had something to quench his thirst and give him respite from the blistering heat.
By the time the sun had long painted the sky in shades of orange and purple, Logan finally felt the energy return to him to make a break for the next grouping when he got distracted by the beauty of the sky above him. Deep navy dyed the world above him, spattered with various sized white dots far out of his reach. Following an invisible line down from the top of the world to the horizon, Logan's eyes drank in how the delft blue sky faded to an indigo color like a deep wine. The black outlines of the landscape before him only served to accentuate the skylight deeper and he found himself getting drawn in.
A noise to the south of him snapped him from his reverie and he realized with horror that he was spending his first night out of the Walls without protection or shelter. Something was making its way through the trees and, like the coward he imagined himself to be, Logan's muscles tensed and he found himself frozen to his spot.
He risked a glance behind him: setting up camp for the night was a small group of people, their clothing ripped and dirty and clearly old, and their faces also matching such descriptions. They didn't speak and hadn't noticed him sitting awkwardly at the water bank, but Logan didn't want to know if they would. Most horrifying of all, were the raised marks outlining their eyes, branded to their skin for permanent identification.
Circles.
Planting his feet as quietly as possible while keeping his eyes glued to the group, he waited for the perfect moment to make a break for it. When the final member of the 4-person group sat themselves down, Logan utilized every muscle in his legs to leap through the air and across the stream. He could hear the outraged cries of the Circle echoing across the vast plane behind him, but the adrenaline pumping through him kept him on his feet as he sprinted across the clearing.
By the time he slammed himself into the tree on the next copse, Logan couldn't hear the Circle yelling at him to return nor could he hear anything besides the thrumming of his blood through his ears and his wheezing breaths. For security, Logan used the last bit of energy he had to climb up until the tree could no longer support his weight, and passed out against the bark.
When he woke in the wee hours of the morning, Logan didn't bother trying to admire the painted sky in favor of continuing to run from the copse in case the Circle found him. His stomach grumbled unhappily, but he simply rolled his eyes, added "find food" to his growing list of problems, and began his aimless walk across the prairie. He mentally slapped himself for abandoning his backpack in the Wall.
Around mid-day, when Logan had stopped at a singular tree in the middle of a clearing, he spotted in the far distance a group of people. He made to run in the opposite direction until he spotted a familiar bright yellow hoodie. A stupid grin made its way onto his face and he sprinted towards the group.
"Aly!" He screamed as loud as he could as he ran towards them. "Alyssa! It's me! Alyssa!"
The yellow hooded person spun around to look at him, then began sprinting his direction and they met in the middle. Logan wrapped his arms tightly around Aly's waist while she wound her arms around his neck and buried her face in his hair.
"You ginger moron!" Aly yelled at him, peeling herself away from him to smack him in the shoulder. "I told you to run with me! I thought you were dead!"
"I'm not." Logan pulled her back into his arms, pushing her face into his chest as her arms found their way around his back. "It's okay. We made it."
The two muttered out and repeated words of "I'm sorry", "I'm alive", "I'm here", and other reassurances until their blabbering turned into silent crying.
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