1945. It should have been where it ended. And yet, evil found its way through the cracks and was permitted to live on. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you see it, it wasn't for very long. By the time it was really over, there wasn't much left. Crumbs of what used to be and only a few limited survivors to carry the future on their backs. They had a rough road ahead of them, to rebuild their livelihoods or die trying.

Scarla was a eighteen year old girl. When the worst happened she was fortunate enough to have loving parents that hid her away in a secure personal bunker fifty feet in the earth. Her parents knew their own fate and yet cared not about themselves but of their daughters' survival. They always bragged about her beauty though she did not care to hear it thinking they were always exaggerating. Her brilliant brown hair that now grew past her shoulder blades was now stained with the hardship of this new life. Although she was a teen she still wore a softer face than most and her pale skin was one of the few things she kept up. She cared not about her appearance and instead wore a robust leather jacket outfitted with buckles and straps. Her tights were partially covered with her large boots and her skirt. Her forehead was smeared with dirt and strapped with goggles as if she was a pilot or a mechanic. The only thing she had left of her old life was the humble yet warm blue scarf that draped around her neck. 

As she walked across the rubble of the barren city, she recalled when she first emerged from her bunker to see the desolate wasteland that was before her. Her silvery eyes had given way to tears and wished that she would have swapped places with her parents, so that she could've been put to rest instead of living in this sad, destroyed world that hurts her everyday that she remains. But none of that mattered now. She had no tears left, only resolved to keep moving and keep surviving.

She made her way past the torn apart train station that was miraculously still partially standing. She was reminded of her past dream of wanting to ride the subway all around the city. But that dream was but a memory and she needed to focus on this moment. She scavenged the station and found very little as she found that it had been picked through already. Her stomach grumbled and it only fueled her depression further. Looked like there was no food today either.

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a peculiar mark. She had been around this wasteland enough to know that somewhere out there were small scattered groups that hid in the shadows and stuck together to survive. She had wanted so badly to find one of these groups so she wouldn't have to be lonely anymore but she knew they're almost impossible to locate. She had tried before and in the end, gave up all hope. This time felt different though. Whoever left this mark was sloppy and left a trail. She didn't want to get her hopes up but she couldn't find a reason to not at least try to follow the trail. It seemed to take her on the outskirts of the city. In the distance, one of the large bridges was still standing although its usefulness was next to none. The bay no longer had shimmering, cool blue water. Only the dirt remained and the smell of dead fish was a bit too much to handle with covering up her face with her scarf. Even though she hasn't seen a single soul in several days, footprints and small tracks littered the sandy ground that she walked across. She knew they were out there, she just had to find them.

After a few hours, her journey came to a stop at a precarious lighthouse. In its glory days it directed ships of all kinds and she couldn't help but be amazed. She decided to sneak in so as to not scare off any potential fellow survivors. Ducking and crawling through a maze of metal and debris was nothing new to Scarla. More dirt would adorn her skirt and smear across her cheek. But she didn't care. She only wanted to get inside as soon as possible. A low rumble could be heard from a near distance. Another storm was rolling in and nobody wanted to be trapped in that. Especially if they don't want to add burns and boils to their list of problems. Just the thought of it made a burn on thigh sting a bit but she had no time to stop. It was dark and musty inside. Thankfully the smell of fish was significantly lessened and so she could remove the scarf from her face. She kept a low profile as she moved through the mangled lighthouse until she could hear low voices. 

"I don't know if it's worth staying here any longer if we have to keep going farther and farther out to find food."

"What else do you suggest? Move our base to somewhere else? You know Curt wouldn't make the trip. He's barely with us as it is."

"Listen both of you! We'll figure something out. For now, stop your squabbling. It'll only make this more difficult. Cass, hand me some soup please."

Scarla was listening intently and didn't realize where she was stepping when her foot slipped in a piece of loose metal that sent her tumbling into the strangers.

"Deck! Did I not tell you to cover your tracks and make sure nobody follows you?

"I was sure I did! Please Cass, don't hit me again! You left a mark last time."

Scarla was confused about the situation she was now in, especially because she was largely being ignored now. She turned to the one who seemed to be the leader and asked about who they were.

"Excuse me. I didn't want to startle you, but I couldn't help but overhear something about food."

The one called Deck spoke up and said "We aren't sharing any food with a stranger like you."

Deckland had a more stocky build and wasn't the brightest of the group. He always made sure he was clean shaven but the top of his head was a curly jungle that wasn't doing him too many favors.

The girl that was called Cass squatted in front of Scarla and said "Don't listen to Deck. He's an idiot. Here eat this. You must be really hungry."

Cassie was a girl only a few years older than Scarla. She had short brownish red hair and pretty green eyes. Although she tried to cover it up, Scarla could see the scar just underneath her bangs on her forehead. Cass was also the only one besides the leader who carried a weapon. A 9mm handgun with one round loaded and another on her belt. For a moment Scarla was fascinated at how cool Cass was but quickly pulled herself back.

The leader looked Scarla up and down and nodded at Cass. "Very well. I have no gripes if you take responsibility for her."

The one who led this band of scavengers was only known as Jack. The rest of the group hadn't questioned him further about who he is. He kept them safe, healthy, and fed and nobody wanted that to change. 

Scarla threw out all grace as she wolfed down the soup that Cass handed her. She wiped her face and gave back the bowl. 

"Thank you. It was better than I would've ve able to do." She said.

Cass patted her on the head and set the bowl aside. Not too far away a person who had been laying down had started to cough. It didn't sound good at all and that made Scarla nervous.

"Um, is he gonna be alright?" She asked.

"You mean Curt? I don't know. It's been a few days now since he became like this. We ran out of medicine before we could properly treat him." Cass explained.

Scarla got up and approached the shivering body of Curt cautiously. She knelt beside him and pulled her bag from behind her back. She popped a bottle she had pulled from her bag and counted out a few pills.

"What are you doing?" Asked Cass.

"I'm going to help him." Scarla responded.

She couldn't see his face through the mask he had been wearing, probably to not infect others just in case whatever he had could spread. She put her hand over the mask and peeled it off his face. She opened his mouth and gently had him swallow the pills and then placed a cloth over his head. It was only after she dabbed his face that she took a good look at him. He had a rounded yet defined face and while his face was most likely more red than usual it was kind of cute. Before she realized, her own face grew rosy and she started to back away. Before she could get too far a hand reached out and grabbed her arm. When she looked back she saw the softest blue eyes she had ever seen. Through the smallest smile, the words "Thank you for saving me" rung through her ears. She couldn't help but blush and tried to look away. Cass, upon seeing all of this, covered her mouth as she gave a chuckle.

"It would seem Curt has fallen hard." Cass quipped.

Scarla grew red hot and broke free from Curt's grasp as she scurried back to where she was sitting. 

"Aww. Don't be such a party pooper. It was just getting good!" Continued Cass.

"I-I just wanted to help him. Don't take it the wrong way." Scarla pronounced, perhaps a bit too loud.

As the rest of the group heard, they simply smiled and went onto their business. Although she was now highly embarrassed, she felt warm and welcome here and decided that maybe she could stick around for a bit. She felt less lonely than before. She put a hand on her cheeks to feel the warmth while playing with her hair. It was nice.

It was 1948. The desolate wasteland seemed as endless as ever. Now that she's twenty-one, perhaps it wouldn't have to be so bad for her anymore. Maybe she could find friends in these people. She wanted so desperately to not be alone. 

She was already too close to giving up and ending what little she had left.