Gabe never thought he'd be walking through the apocalypse thinking, "Huh, not bad."
But here he was.
The second district was holding together better than anyone had a right to expect. As he and Bob walked through the wide, surprisingly intact streets, Gabe couldn't help but stare. Compared to the ruins they had just come from, this place looked like someone had patched the apocalypse together with duct tape, scrap metal, and sheer determination.
Solar panels lined the rooftops, tilted to catch what little sunlight made it through the haze. Below them, gasoline-powered generators hummed from alleyways and street corners, their low buzz filling the air as they pumped power through thick, tangled cables. It wasn't a perfect system—fuel had to be scavenged, and the solar panels barely kept up—but it was enough to keep the lights on.
The real lifeline, though, was the meteor fragments—massive chunks of rock, some as large as trucks, half-buried in the pavement like fallen stars. They didn't generate power, but they served a different purpose. A faint, shimmering glow surrounded each one, their overlapping barriers forming an invisible shield around the district.
The Pink Fog curled at the edges, shifting like it was searching for cracks, but it never crossed. The people here had done more than survive—they had built something functional, something that lasted. A real safe zone. Something Gabe hadn't thought possible in a world like this.
Larger fragments meant larger Safe Zones. Gabe remembered the broadcast clearly:
"The size of a meteor fragment determines how much fog it can push back. Bigger fragments create stronger barriers, expanding the area of safety. In a way, these fragments act as natural shields, keeping the Pink Fog at bay."
Looking around, Gabe believed it.
This place wasn't just surviving—it was thriving.
People bartered on street corners, exchanging whatever they had left. Some cooked over makeshift stoves powered by a patched-together grid, and for a moment, the scent of real food filled the air. Laughter drifted through the streets, light and easy—like everyone had silently agreed to pretend the world wasn't collapsing just beyond the barrier. Kids kicked around a dented soccer ball while parents watched from shaded porches, their eyes never fully relaxed.
But beneath the surface, Gabe saw the truth. This wasn't a community built on kindness. It wasn't about helping each other survive. Here, if you wanted to eat, you paid. With supplies. With whatever you had that was worth something.
And Bob and Gabe? They had nothing.
No trade. No food. No way in.
Gabe sighed as his stomach growled. "Great. So, we survived the fog just to starve in paradise."
Bob, unfazed, just nodded like this was all part of the plan. "Then we'll find food outside."
Of course.
Outside.
Back into the fog.
Gabe glanced back at the glowing walls of the Safe Zone, then out into the shifting pink beyond. "Yeah. Fantastic idea."
---
For a brief moment, Gabe allowed himself to imagine this place was normal. But then the wind shifted.
Beyond the safety of the white glow, past the barricades and stacked cars—in the pink fog, they were watching.
Nightmare creatures.
Dozens of them.
Things that used to be animals. Dogs the size of trucks with glowing eyes. Cats with too many legs and tails like whips. Twisted deer, their antlers sharp like tangled metal. Even the plants were wrong—thick vines coiled near the fog, twitching as though waiting for someone to get too close.
And they weren't just wandering anymore.
They were marking territories.
Gabe watched as a massive black wolf snarled and chased off a smaller winged creature from a wrecked bus. Another beast—something horse-shaped, only meaner and uglier—paced the fog's border, daring anything to cross.
The Pink Fog wasn't just spreading. It was building an ecosystem.
And honestly? That terrified him more than the monsters did.
The fog only seemed to transform living things into fantasy creatures. No robots, no cars, no machines—just people, animals, and plants. And the longer they stayed in the fog, the stronger—and more monstrous—they became.
Some became mindless.
Others... smarter.
Even the creatures were fighting now.
Fighting to survive.
Fighting for dominance.
Territories were forming.
Rules were changing.
Gabe rubbed his forehead. "I swear... I just wanted a normal job. Maybe a desk. Air conditioning. A pension. Now I'm in a horror movie with a walking brick wall."
Bob looked over his shoulder. "What?"
"Nothing,"
Gabe said quickly. "Just talking to myself."
---
Trying to focus on something else, Gabe looked over at Bob, who—predictably—was sniffing the air, distracted by the faint smell of soup drifting from a food tent.
Classic.
But his mind wandered back to the start. Back to Bob.
People used to call him King of Cowards.
Not to his face. Well... okay, once. But Bob had been there, so it worked out.
They'd known each other forever.
Back in grade school, Gabe had noticed Bob right away. Hard not to—he was the biggest kid by a mile. Quiet, simple, never causing trouble. Just... there, like some big, harmless mountain.
A gentle giant. Didn't talk much. Didn't try to make friends. He just existed, like some big, quiet mountain.
Gabe had always loved arguing. As a kid, it wasn't just about being right—half the time, he didn't even care if he was. He just liked the back-and-forth, the challenge of proving a point, the thrill of making someone second-guess themselves. Most of the time, it was harmless. Other times? It ended in a fight. Not because Gabe wanted to throw punches, but because arguing had a way of riling people up. And once tempers flared, it was only a matter of time before someone took a swing.
That was usually when Bob stepped in.
Not by fighting. He didn't have to. All it took was him standing there—towering, steady, completely unbothered. Just watching. Most kids took one look at him and decided that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't worth it. And for the few who still thought they had something to prove? Bob would sigh, roll his shoulders, and take a step forward.
That was usually the end of it.
But it wasn't just fights.
Like the time Gabe hid under his bed during a thunderstorm, convinced the world was ending, and Bob just sat there with him, telling the dumbest jokes he could think of until the thunder faded.
Or the time some older kids tried to take his lunch money, and Bob solved the problem by eating their lunch instead.
Or every time Gabe got in over his head, ran his mouth too much, or backed himself into a corner he couldn't talk his way out of—Bob was there. Not always saying much. Not always doing much. Just there.
But the worst was high school.
Gabe got himself into real trouble then.
There was a girl. The kind of girl everyone noticed. Problem was, she belonged to a local gang leader. And Gabe? Well, he didn't care. Or maybe he cared too much.
They warned him off.
So Gabe doubled down.
Maybe it wasn't even about the girl. Maybe it was just the challenge.
The gang made good on their threats.
First it was just missing homework and flipped chairs. Then bruises. Black eyes. Split lips.
He tried telling the school. Teachers brushed it off.
"Boys will be boys."
"Just playing rough."
Gabe thought about quitting. He'd sit in his room, wondering if it was even worth showing up anymore.
Then Bob stepped in.
No speeches. No threats. Just action.
One by one, Bob took out the gang members. Nobody even knew how he did it exactly. They'd show up to school limping or refusing to make eye contact with anyone. By the end of the week, the bullying stopped entirely.
Gabe didn't ask questions. He didn't need to.
The girl? Turned out she was dating someone long-distance and transferred abroad shortly after.
Classic.
But Gabe never forgot what Bob did.
---
And now, here they were.
Even after the meteor.
The fog.
The end of everything.
And he was still following Bob.
Because, honestly? There was nowhere else to go.
Sure, Gabe had parents. Rich ones. His dad ran businesses across several countries. His mom managed the international accounts. They were abroad when the meteor hit, and reports said they were fine. Safe. For now.
But with the skies shut down and the oceans cut off? There were no flights. No way home.
And Gabe?
An only child.
Alone, if not for Bob.
Bob, who lived just down the street.
Bob, who didn't ask questions.
Bob, who just dragged him along like it was normal to adopt the lonely rich kid who couldn't throw a ball straight.
It had always been like that.
So he stayed.
Because where else would he go?
And Gabe following close behind, the self-declared brains of the operation... though honestly, he was just grateful to be alive.
"Hey," Gabe said, nudging Bob as they walked. "Thanks, by the way."
"For what?"
"For... you know. Everything."
Bob shrugged. "We're friends. That's what we do."
And just like that, the conversation ended.
Simple as always.
But for Gabe, that was enough.
---
They walked quietly through the district, the crowd parting around them, whispers trailing in their wake.
Two guys who'd gone into the Pink Fog and actually come back.
And now?
They were about to do it again.
"Hey, Bob," Gabe muttered, scanning the edges of the Safe Zone.
"Yeah?"
"I think we need a plan. A real one."
Bob scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Okay. But can it wait? I'm hungry."
Gabe groaned. "Of course you are."
Even at the end of the world, some things never changed.
And just like that, the King of Cowards followed the Goliath straight back toward the edge of the fog, this time not to fight, not to explore—
But to find food.
This time, people watched in disbelief as Bob and Gabe prepared to head back into the fog, like it was just another trip to the store.
Because while everyone else was trying to survive inside the Safe Zone...
Bob was already thinking about dinner.