The city stood stagnant and silent, as the only sound that echoed throughout the streets was the tapping of their footsteps on the worn, cracked pavement. A young man and woman walked side by side; he was about a foot or two taller than her, and his larger frame easily overshadowed hers. She was thinner, and her lithe frame made manuevering throughout the broken landscape a simpler task. Their faces appeared just as ragged as the ground they walked upon -- except the man seemed more content with the situation at hand. He turned to her, continuously opening and closing his mouth as if he wanted to speak, but the words were caught in his throat. After this momentary struggle, however, he finally broke the silence.


"Christa?" he muttered.


The young woman raised her head. "We'll get there soon, Luke," she replied.

"But..."

She quickly interrupted, "You already asked where we were headed. You asked ten minutes ago, and we're not any closer to the next town over than we were before, Luke."

He watched her for a moment, effectively silenced, with his mouth hanging open. Though, she could tell the information wasn't getting through to his head.

"We'll get there soon, Luke," she said, as she nodded her head, smiling reassuringly. "I promise."

And just as soon as she said this, a wide smile began tugging at his lips, too. He began bobbing his head in unison with hers, gleefully repeating her words,

"Soon! We'll be, we'll get to town soon..!"


About three hours later, the two companions had managed to make it only halfway to their next destination. Christa's eyes were focused straight ahead, while occasionally shifting to the side, to make sure Luke was still keeping in line. Every so often, he would reach up to wipe his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. His damp, dirty hair clung to his skin. He let out a pitiful whine every now and then; the heat of midday almost becoming too much for him to bear as he padded along behind his friend.


"Christa..." he whined.

She continued walking ahead, gripping the straps of the beat-up bookbag hanging off her back.

"Christa, I'm tired..!"

"I am, too, Luke," she mumbled under her breath.

His moping only continued to grow louder and more desperate, until he eventually dropped onto his knees. The loud "thud!" caused Christa to stop in her tracks, but she stayed facing forward. Luke planted his face into the ground, and slapped his hands onto his head.

"I... can't keep walking, Christa! I can't! My feet hurt!"

Her shoulders slumped, and her chest heaved as she exhaled a frustrated sigh.

"My feet hurt, too, Luke," she said, "but we gotta' keep going."

He gripped his hair, "I don't wanna go! I don't wanna!"

Christa's eyes narrowed, and she slowed turned her head towards him. As soon as she noticed him tugging his hair, she swiftly made her way over to him and began trying to pull his hands away.

"Stop it, Luke! Stop!" she yelled.

He sat upright along with her pulling, staring up at her face with fearful eyes. His fingers remained tightly weaved in his blonde locks, but his tugging immediately ceased. Christa firmly grasped his wrists, her lips pursed into a thin line as she glared down at him. It felt like scolding a puppy for doing something bad.


This routine had become second nature to Christa. The two would begin their trek across the city, and sooner or later, Luke's short-lived resolve would start to crumble. It was her job to build him back up every time. No one else was going to do it -- there was hardly anyone left to rely on. It was just the two of them, for now, always bound to rely on each other, no matter the circumstances.


Christa knelt down beside Luke, and finally pried his hands from his head. The glare that once lingered on her face faded away, and was replaced by something more gentle, and comforting. She curled her fingers around his stubbier ones, and gave them a little squeeze. He stuck out his lower lip, not wanting to displease her anymore than he already had. Despite her sudden change in demeanor, he was still afraid she would continue to admonish him.


She tilted her head, leaning in as she spoke quietly to him,

"Are you thirsty, Luke? I still got a little bit of that water left..." she said.

He hesitated for a moment, before nodding softly. Christa reached into the side pocket of her bag, and pulled out the day old water bottle she had saved.

"I was gonna have some, but..." she held the bottle out to him, "It looks like you need it more than I do. You're practically melting."

Luke's eyes darted up to the drink, "I-I don't wanna melt... I don't wanna do that," he whimpered.

"Well, c'mon then. Have some water, 'fore that happens."

He slowly raised his hand, curling and uncurling his fingers. Before Christa had a chance to place the bottle in his hands, he suddenly snatched it away. She watched, helplessly, as he took a few small sips of water, and then chugged all of it down in one big gulp. Her mouth never felt drier, and her head pounded in agony.

Luke tossed the bottle onto the ground, gasping for air after swallowing down the last of the water. He wiped his mouth with his wrist, and flashed his sweetest smile at Christa. She smiled back, but moreso out of suppressed despair.

"That was good, Christa!" he exclaimed, excited as ever, picking the bottle up again. "D-do, do you want some? There's..! Th-there's, ah..." his joyful expression fell as he peered into it. There were only a couple of tiny droplets left.

Christa patted his shoulder, and pushed herself up onto her feet.

"It's alright, Luke. We'll find more later. It's alright."


Hours continued to fly by as the two made their way to safety. Christa's head was constantly being struck with painful twinges under the intense sun. This had been the most miserable day of summer, by far. Neither one in the pair knew what day it was anymore, or what time it was, exactly. The only way to tell time now was by the position of the sun and the moon. Light was running out soon, and it shone its worst rays of heat in its final hours.


Christa yearned to find another bottle of painkillers -- the strongest kind possible. It felt as though someone was hammering nails through her head, and her feet were so swollen that they were beginning to turn red and purple. Fortunately, the two were getting closer and closer to the bridge, where they were planning on hiding out for the night. It was a perfect spot, it seemed, as no one could spot them or be a bother.


The bridge once had water flowing under it, but it had all flooded over onto the grass. It made getting underneath it difficult, however, as the terrain was muddier and slippery. A road was paved above it, but no cars had driven across it for the longest time. There were barely any cars left to drive.


Christa carefully inched her way down the hills leading into the dry valley below, and eventually made her way to the underpass. She set her bags down on the cracked pavement, and proceeded to collapse on top of them. She felt immense relie as the pressure was lifted from her feet, and the ache in her head dulled slightly. Luke bounded down the slope, towards her. He laughed as he nearly tumbled down along the grass and mud. Christa slowly rolled over, and plopped onto the ground.


Over the next hour, the two of them prepared their camp for night. The rolled out their sleeping bags side by side, and used their bookbags as pillows. It wasn't nearly as comfortable as the beds they had slept on before, but it was better than nothing. Besides, by the time their heads hit those bags, those luxuries didn't matter anymore. All of the walking they did every day made for a surprisingly effective sedative.


As the two lie next to each other, their minds began to settle for the night. Luke rested on his side, facing Christa, and his eyes slowly roamed over her weary face. She had been starting to doze off when his voice suddenly shocked her back to life.

"Christa..?" he uttered quietly.

"What?" she replied.

"Y-you know those people you keep tellin' me about..? The lady... and, and that man? You know?"

Christa shuffled her feet together. "Yeah, I know."

Luke licked his lips, and then bit the inside of his cheek. He glanced away from her shyly, before pulling his eyes back up to her face.

"I like that story," he mumbled, "It... sounds pretty, a-and nice-"

"Like the house they were gonna live in? By a nice big pond..." she continued, "and they were gonna live far, far away from the city."

Luke's eyes began to light up as she talked. "K-keep going..!" he said.

She smiled a little, and rolled her shoulders in circles. "It's nice when you tell it, though, Luke... and I'm gettin' pretty tired."

He stared down at her for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Th-they were gonna... move far away, and..! And, their house was gonna be big! A-and, um..."

"They were going to buy lots of nice furniture, and-"

"A big car, r-right?"

Her smile widened just slightly, and she nodded, "That's right, Luke. A big car."

He giggled, and nuzzled his cheek against his bag. Everything remained silent for the next couple of moments, besides the faint sounds of crickets chirping in the distance. He observed her silently; the joy in his eyes remaining, still.


It was nice when it was only the two of them, together this way. Every day was spent worrying over whether or not they would be safe, or if they had enough to eat and drink, or if they would be able to find shelter for the evening. When it was simply the two of them resting under the dark sky, everything seemed alright again. Life was stuck on pause, and death was nothing but a distant memory. For a couple of hours, everything felt like it did before.


Christa's once most pleasant dreams became terrible nightmares. She would see Luke stumble after her, as the roads beneath his feet would begin to crumble. He would reach for her, but she could never seem to catch him before the void would suck him in. She could never save him from his imminent doom. It was her fault every time. Luke could barey manage to tie his shoes anymore; how could she expect him to protect himself?


All of a sudden, Christa was jolted awake by Luke's cry of terror. She started upright, but was stopped the cold metal of a gun poised against the back of her head. Her body became rigid. Another man stood behind Luke, holding a knife instead. He pressed the blade against Luke's neck, urging him to stand down.

They had been discovered.