The air outside the apartment felt colder, more hostile. Rian led the way, glancing back occasionally to make sure Milo kept up. Zara moved to the left flank, scanning the street with careful precision, while Devika followed in the middle, her hands faintly glowing as she kept a tight grip on Milo’s backpack.

The sky remained that sickly, bruised hue, shifting between violet and ash. Occasional flickers of static zipped across the clouds, like a malfunctioning digital screen.

Rian signaled for them to stop near an overturned delivery truck. The metal shell was singed and partially melted, as if something had passed through it with searing heat. Zara inspected the ground, frowning at the pattern of scorched footprints.

“Whatever did this wasn’t in a hurry,” she muttered. “No drag marks. Just straight through.”

Milo crouched next to a twisted hubcap, his fingers tracing a thin scorch line. “It’s not just heat. This feels… corrosive.”

Rian looked over his shoulder, appreciating Milo’s sharp observation. “Good eye. Stay close.”

They moved further, passing a smashed newsstand where crumpled papers drifted like fallen leaves. Devika picked up a page with a warped headline: “Citywide Blackout: Authorities Urge Caution”. Beneath it, the print had warped, letters smudged as if the ink itself had melted.

A low hum started to vibrate through the pavement. Rian signaled for everyone to crouch low, pressing against the alley wall.

From a side street, a group of five emerged — scavengers, carrying crude weapons: pipes, crowbars, and one with a makeshift spear. They moved in formation, clearly accustomed to combing the area for supplies.

Milo, eyes wide, nudged Rian. “If we cut through the bookstore ahead, we can get around them. There’s a back exit to the park.”

Rian nodded. “Lead the way.”

They moved swiftly, ducking into the ruined store. Shelves had collapsed, books strewn like fallen soldiers. The air smelled of damp paper and mildew. Milo navigated the maze of debris with surprising agility, and Zara whispered, “Kid’s got good instincts.”

“Nothing’s normal anymore,” Rian muttered.

As they picked through the debris, Rian paused by a half-toppled display table. Beneath it, wrapped in cloth and tucked between hardcover volumes, was a small case. Inside — spare batteries, old maps, and a radio transceiver.

He clicked it on.

It was just static noise.

Rian grabbed everything and handed Milo the radio "Take this. If it picks up any signals, let me know."

Milo tucked it into his backpack, keeping it within easy reach.

Devika, lingering at the door, noticed one of the scavengers glance their way. She tugged Rian’s sleeve. “We need to move. Now.”

They slipped through the back exit, emerging into the park. The once lively space was now overgrown, roots tearing through concrete paths. A single swing creaked lazily in the breeze, and the old carousel had rusted into an eerie stillness.

Zara pulled out her knife, giving it a testing twirl. “We’re too exposed here.”

Milo pointed to a pavilion in the distance, partially hidden by ivy. “We can hide there for a bit.”

As they moved, Rian kept his senses sharp, the gauntlet occasionally sparking with faint blue light. Once inside, they found scattered camping gear — evidence that someone had sheltered here recently.

Rian scanned the area, cautious. “Whoever was here might come back. Stay alert.”

The radio crackled faintly from Milo’s bag, and he fumbled to pull it out. The voice, distorted and crackling, whispered through the static: “…disturbance… moving toward central grid… avoid exposure…”

Zara arched a brow. “Central grid? Sounds like a power hub.”

Rian glanced east. “If someone’s organizing survivors, that’s where they’d go. Power means stability.”

Devika touched his arm, her voice soft. “It also means a target.”

Before they could debate, a howl cut through the air — deep, guttural, and distinctly not human. It echoed through the park, making Milo instinctively move closer to Devika.

Rian tightened his grip on the gauntlet. “We’re not alone.”

End of Chapter 6.