We both take one breath and start coughing, lungs burning. I grab the two air masks out of my pack and put mine on quickly, and help Soren with his. The air here is absolutely not okay to breathe, not even for a moment.

“Follow me.” My voice is muffled through the mask. I grasp Soren’s wrist again and pull him along, heading for what looks like a rooftop entrance to the building below. I pull open a creaky hatch and we climb down a rickety metal staircase.

Inside the rundown casino we find filthy threadbare carpet, heaps of discarded junk, and broken machines. It stinks of drugs heavily. But it seems the place is still functioning to some degree, their lights are lit inside and a spray painted sign directs us to the lobby to find the front desk.

Soren is clinging onto my arm, I can tell he is very on edge in this place. I find the front desk and rest my hand on my dagger when I see there is person behind the counter. It’s a man, about 50, and when he sees us he scrutinizes us suspiciously. He has a nasty scar running down one side of his face, transversing his beady eye and curving across his pockmarked cheek. He’s wearing a faded and stained denim jacket over an old one piece work outfit.

I approach the desk cautiously, glaring at the man. I can feel Soren’s fingers clutching my hand tightly and he is hiding behind me.

“Can I help you?” Asks the man coldly in a gravelly voice.

“Do you still rent rooms?” I ask him just as icily, glaring into his small eyes. He looks at me for a second with an odd expression, cocking his head to the side.

“Petra?...Petra EsrohErif?” He asks uncertainty. The heck does he know my name?...wait. I recognize the voice.

“Are you Mr. Abraham...what was your call sign....Lakcajredart?” I ask in disbelief. I knew him once, but he looks so different now. He’s run this casino as long as I can remember. He can be intimidating, but is actually nice when you get to know him. His call sign is trader jackle backwards.

“Indeed I am, Ms.” The coldness dissipates from his scarred face and he smiles. “It’s nice to hear from you again, young soldier! I have some news from some of your occomplances.”

“They’ve been through here?I’m looking for Esoreci.” I ask eagerly, thinking fondly of my dearest and only friend. The man behind the counter’s face falls and he looks away. I can tell somethings wrong, and I hold my breath.

“Petra…” begins Abraham slowly, “There's bad news. There was a bad revolt in this place a while ago. We’re one step closer to full on war. Your friends fought for The Stand but they lost Esoreci in the battle. She was left in the street with the other 98 people who died.”

I feel the world slipping away, and my knees buckle. My mind swirls and I don't know what i’m thinking.

I can hardly feel

soren trying to hold me up, and my vision swims in front of me. I can hear my lost friends voice in my ear, I imagine her wise words and her strong but gentle touch. I’ve known her as long as I can remember. When I lost my mother, she became like a mother to me, even though she's hardly three years older. She was my constant in this broken and changing world, she was always there, always teaching me and protecting me. And now, she’s gone?

I must have fallen to the floor because I can feel the rotting dirty carpet scratching my face. My mind numbs and I can’t think. I don’t know anything, I don’t care about anything. I will never get up again. But I don’t even feel sadness. I feel...nothing. Absolute numbness. The only sense I am aware of is Sorens thin hand on my shoulder, trembling. I can’t hear his voice. The whole world with it’s bruises and pain melts away and I’m left with nothing. Nothing but the trembling hand of a broken soul.