The city of Avalon lay in ruins, its skyscrapers reduced to skeletal frames clawing at the ashen sky. A thick, sulfuric haze clung to the air, the stench of decay woven into the fabric of the lifeless streets. The sun, a dim orb struggling against the perpetual smog, cast weak, gray light over the desolation. Cracked pavement sprouted tufts of mutated weeds, their thorns glistening with a toxic sheen.
Lena crouched behind the rusted remains of a car, her rifle held close, its metal cool against her cheek. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant creak of warped steel and the occasional echo of something moving far too fast to be human. She glanced at her Geiger counter strapped to her wrist; it clicked steadily, a grim reminder that this place was poison.
Her target was close—she could feel it. Mutated animals didn’t just roam Avalon; they hunted. They moved with a cunning intelligence, as though evolution had mocked humanity’s fall by crowning these creatures the new apex predators.
Then, she heard it—a low growl that vibrated through her chest like distant thunder. Slowly, Lena peered over the car hood, her pulse quickening. In the distance, a shadow moved through the wreckage, sleek and sinuous. It stepped into the faint light, revealing itself.
It was a wolf—at least, it had been once. Its body was grotesquely elongated, its limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Patches of fur clung to exposed muscle, and its eyes glowed a sickly green, two orbs of radioactive malevolence. The creature’s jaw hung slightly open, revealing rows of jagged teeth, some broken, others far too large for its maw. Its breath rose in visible, acrid clouds.
Lena’s heart pounded as she slowly raised her rifle. She had only one bullet left—a precious artifact of the old world, clean brass and lead. She couldn’t afford to miss. Her hands trembled as she steadied her aim, her finger hovering over the trigger.
The wolf’s head snapped toward her hiding spot.
It moved in an instant, a blur of claws and teeth charging toward her. Lena fired. The crack of the rifle shattered the silence, echoing down the empty streets. The wolf yelped, its body jerking mid-leap as the bullet pierced its chest. It hit the ground with a heavy thud, skidding to a stop mere feet from where Lena stood. Its breathing was shallow now, its glowing eyes dimming as it let out one final, guttural snarl.
She didn’t have time to celebrate. The shot would have drawn others. Quickly, Lena slung the rifle over her shoulder and grabbed the knife strapped to her thigh. She approached the fallen creature, careful to avoid its twitching limbs, and carved out the tooth she needed—a fang soaked in black ichor, a rare material the scavengers valued as a potent barter currency.
The sound of chittering made her freeze. She turned slowly, her eyes scanning the shadows. Rats. Dozens of them, scuttling out from the rubble. But these weren’t ordinary rats—they were bloated monstrosities, their flesh mottled with tumors, their beady eyes glowing faintly like the wolf’s. They swarmed the wolf’s corpse, tearing into it with frenzied hunger.
Lena backed away, her knife ready. She knew better than to fight them. The rats moved as a hive mind, coordinated and relentless. One bite from their jagged, toxin-coated teeth could mean infection—or worse.
She sprinted, her boots crunching over broken glass and rubble. The rats followed, their high-pitched screeches filling the air. She darted through an alley, the walls narrowing and the light fading. Her breath burned in her chest, her vision swimming as the radiation gnawed at her stamina.
Ahead, the alley opened into an old subway station. She dove inside, slamming a rusted gate behind her. The rats piled against it, their clawed paws reaching through the gaps, but the gate held—barely.
The station was eerily quiet, the walls coated in black mold that pulsed faintly, as though alive. The remnants of humanity were everywhere: faded posters advertising concerts and food, broken turnstiles, skeletons slumped in forgotten corners. She stepped carefully, avoiding puddles of phosphorescent sludge.
Then she heard it—a low, rumbling growl that made the wolf seem like a puppy in comparison.
The creature emerged from the shadows at the far end of the platform. It was a bear—or what was left of one. Its body was massive, its fur patchy and matted with gore. Its head was grotesquely swollen, and a second set of eyes stared blindly from the side of its skull. Razor-sharp bone spurs jutted from its shoulders, scraping the walls as it lumbered forward.
Lena’s breath caught. She had no bullets, no chance of outrunning something so large. Her mind raced. She spotted an old generator near the edge of the platform, wires trailing into a pool of water on the tracks below.
The bear roared, the sound shaking dust from the ceiling. It charged, each step reverberating through the ground. Lena sprinted toward the generator, yanking the switch. Sparks flew as the machine roared to life, electricity surging through the wires.
At the last second, she dove aside, rolling into the shadows as the bear’s massive body hit the electrified water. It bellowed in agony, its movements jerking uncontrollably as the current ripped through it. The stench of burnt flesh filled the station.
When it was over, Lena stood, her legs trembling. She stared at the smoking carcass, her ears ringing. Her Geiger counter clicked frantically, warning her to leave.
But she smiled grimly. Another fang, another step closer to survival in a world that refused to die quietly.
And so, she disappeared into the shadows, the fog swallowing her once more.