I Just Wanted to Graduate, Now I'm Stuck in the Apocalypse

Ceaton was supposed to be a vacation spot. Pre-apocalypse brochures probably had smiling couples doing yoga near hot springs, dads barbecuing beside mineral-rich waterfalls, and someone definitely pretending they weren't three margaritas deep by noon. But now? It looked like a Pinterest board titled Nature's Most Dangerous Rock Slides. You could smell the iron in the air. Literal minerals. Like the mountain was bleeding vitamins.

Rico was bouncing in the backseat like a caffeinated toddler. The moment he found out the red sports car's radio still worked, he bribed Rafe into making him a driving license. By bribed, we mean begged and offered snacks. The license? A leaf. Carved with the words: "Rico: LEGIT DRIVER." Complete with a doodle of a steering wheel. Official in the post-apocalypse, obviously.

Rico and Rafe were laughing like it was summer break and not zombie era, but surprise—Rafe still ended up driving.

Meanwhile, in the van trailing behind, Thalia was giving the boys in the red car some serious side-eye.

"These immature boys," she muttered, steering with a practiced calm.

"Does Rafe always act like that?" she asked, nodding toward the bickering idiots ahead.

"You mean emotionally allergic to Caleb? That's his default setting," Xenia replied, staring out at the winding gravel road. "But if Caleb isn't around, he morphs into this stoic, protective savior type. Like a tragic anime lead."

Thalia raised an eyebrow. "You speak like you've known them forever."

"Honestly? I've only known them for two or three weeks. My understanding of people is just guesswork duct-taped to gut instinct. But Tenorio—he wanted to save people. So I'm trying."

Thalia softened. "That's brave. And rare. Especially these days."

"Don't get too inspired. Our goal here is to find iron like we're in Minecraft. Melt it down. Reinforce the camp. Except I'm not a builder. And I still need books to figure out how smelting even works."

"If only this place had Wi-Fi," Thalia sighed.

"If this place had Wi-Fi, I'd be Googling 'how to emotionally process trauma through memes' and 'how to smelt iron without dying.'"

They finally pulled into what could generously be called a parking area—less mud than usual, slightly flat. The cliffs ahead were tall, jagged, and radiated the kind of energy that screamed you will fall and regret it.

"We can't drive past this," Thalia said, scanning the terrain.

"You think?" Xenia said, deadpan. "I was hoping a road would magically appear if I squinted hard enough."

From the red car, Rico popped his head out.

"I'll stay with the vehicles!" he called. "Not because I'm scared, just... being responsible."

No one called him out. His face said it all.

Caleb stepped forward, cracking his knuckles like an overconfident hiking bro who thought a protein bar could replace a personality. "I'll go first. Tie a rope up top."

Rafe rolled his eyes. "Sure you won't trip over your ego halfway?"

"If I fall, I'll make sure to land butt-first on your face," Caleb grinned.

"I'll go too," Rafe muttered. "To make sure he falls faster."

Thalia blinked like she was debating whether to scold them or adopt them.

Xenia raised a hand. "Hold up. I'm climbing too. I don't need ropes. Just vibes. Bad ones. But still."

She approached the cliff, palms already sweating. The rocks looked crumbly. Suspicious. Like they'd betray her the second she believed in herself.

One step. Then another. She gripped the stone like it was an ex she couldn't emotionally let go of. Everything shook—arms, legs, dignity.

A foot slipped.

"I'm fine! Totally fine! That was just gravity flirting with me."

Thalia boosted her from below.

Eventually, somehow, Xenia made it up. She planted her boot in a crack and scrambled the rest of the way with the grace of a baby deer in roller skates.

"I hate this. I hate cliffs. I hate my weak apocalypse body," she muttered.

Caleb called down encouraging nonsense like, "You got this!" while Rafe yelled, "This counts as cardio!"

She finally flopped over the ledge like a dying fish. Rafe smirked. Caleb offered a hand. She ignored both.

"I made it. Barely. Please someone send a helicopter next time."

Thalia climbed up behind her, calm as ever.

"We're not alone," she said. "Saw tracks. Barefoot. Human. Or pretending to be."

Rafe stiffened. "More survivors?"

"Or more cults," Xenia muttered. "It's always cults."

The path ahead wound through jungle trees and rocky outcrops, the roar of waterfalls getting louder.

"Let's move," Thalia said. "Quietly."

They stepped into the forest, each crunch of gravel like a firework. Xenia prayed the next apocalypse didn't involve cliffs. Or cults. Or cardio.

Then they saw it—smoke rising between trees. Huts. And movement.

"People," Thalia whispered.

A tall man stood near a campfire. He turned. Recognition lit his face.

"Commander Eron," Thalia breathed.

"Thalia," he said. "Why are you here?"

"We're—" Thalia began.

"Just here to find shelter," Xenia cut in smoothly, flashing a tight smile. Her eyes flicked toward the villagers. Thin. Nervous. Silent. "You know, rest. Quiet place. Heard this was safe."

Thalia shot her a look but stayed quiet.

Eron nodded. "You're welcome here. Come. Eat."

The fire crackled. Meat roasted on a spit. Strange-looking meat. Human-shaped meat.

Caleb went pale. Rafe gagged. Thalia tensed. Xenia didn't blink.

"Yup," she said softly. "Called it. Cult."

No forest. No fish. Just caves. Just desperation.

They had walked into a village surviving by eating their own.

Xenia looked at Thalia.

"We're sleeping with one eye open tonight," she whispered.

The cliff was just a warm-up.

Now the real danger had a smile and a name.

And dinner was watching them.