Pawn of the Gods

In the midst of the rubble of a ruined building, a man with a cold expression sat on a worn wooden bench. He wore a dark paramilitary outfit, with a rifle slung across his chest. A cigarette hung from his mouth, releasing a thin spiral of smoke that mixed with the heavy, stagnant air of the place.

Around him, the world seemed like a ghost of what it once was: crumbling walls, shattered windows, the acidic smell of mold and decay filled the air.

In his hands, he held an old tabloid, its cover emblazoned with bold letters: "The Dead Rising and Attacking People! Real or Fake?"

The issue was about ten years old, a time marking the beginning of the chaos that had devastated civilization.

During that period, institutions collapsed like a house of cards; governments around the world, powerless and without a contingency plan, watched as anarchy spread like wildfire.

Meanwhile, the media, instead of providing useful information, chose to exploit the collective hysteria with flashy and misleading headlines. The fragility of the social order was quickly eroded by fake news, intensifying the widespread panic.

The magazine Elias was reading was one of many examples of this irresponsible behavior.

Despite its dubious content, he seemed entertained, flipping through the yellowed pages with a certain curiosity, as if trying to find some clue about how the world had collapsed so quickly.

The sound of soft footsteps echoed through the place, bringing Helena into the scene. A woman with features similar to Elias's, but with a markedly more determined look. She wore paramilitary clothes and carried a machete at her waist, as if always ready to fight.

Her eyes landed on her brother, who was still absorbed in the reading. She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms in a gesture of irritation.

"You're still reading this crap, Elias?" she said, her voice mixing impatience and exasperation. "Don't you get tired of wasting time with these ridiculous articles?"

Elias didn't divert his gaze from the magazine, continuing to flip through the pages calmly. He exhaled a puff of smoke before answering, without changing his apathetic expression.

"It's curious to see how foolish people were back then," he murmured, almost to himself. "They thought they could just ignore what was happening."

Helena let out a heavy sigh and walked closer, her steps echoing on the cracked concrete floor.

"Another day, you were telling these nonsense to Carl, you know? He took what you said seriously. These lies from ten years ago have already caused enough damage, don't you think?"

Elias finally lifted his eyes, staring at her indifferently. He seemed unfazed, as if the world around him was nothing more than an insignificant detail.

"Maybe," he replied, extinguishing the cigarette on a twisted piece of metal at his side. "But it's always good to remember how it all started."

Helena shook her head, frustrated, but chose not to continue the debate. She knew that, with Elias, certain conversations never led anywhere.

"Helena, instead of standing there doing nothing, why don't you do me a favor and bring me the military ration?"

She sighed before responding, somewhat quietly, but still audible: "Lazy…"

Elias heard perfectly but didn't bother to reply. Long ago, their relationship had been an unstable balance between love and hate. He used to joke that it all began the moment he came out of their mother's womb.

As soon as Helena left the room, he took the opportunity to resume reading the magazine. Despite being old, it still had its value—especially because of the stunning model posing in a bikini on the penultimate page.

"She's probably been devoured years ago and is now an wanderer like all the others," Elias thought, looking at the image with a melancholy mixture of irony and sadness.

Before he could turn the next page, a woman's scream echoed through the building, coming from the lower floor. His blood froze. Without a second thought, Elias dropped the magazine and ran down the stairs.

Helena was all he had left in the world. And he would do the impossible to protect her.

The scene that unfolded before his eyes confirmed his worst fears: An wanderer was attacking Helena. The undead, with bleached eyes and rotting teeth, was holding her arm with supernatural strength.

With a clenched expression, Elias shouted, "Helena, try to stay still!" Raising his rifle, he aimed at her and fired. The bullet pierced the undead's skull and lodged in the wall, followed by a loud, sharp sound that echoed throughout the place.

Helena, covered in rotten flesh, screamed toward Elias: "You idiot, you rang the dinner bell!" With a slight hint of fear in her voice, she continued, "Why didn't you use the bayonet? Now thousands of wanderer are going to swarm behind us."

Elias, remaining calm, replied, "The sound spread across several blocks. As long as we don't make more noise and stay calm, they won't track us."

Still with an angry expression, Helena began to speak in a neutral tone. With one hand, she removed pieces of flesh that had gotten stuck in her hair and wiped the blood off her face. "I'll never get used to being covered in blood, even after 10 years in this hell."

Elias gave a faint smile and, without responding, turned around, beginning to walk. The backpack on his back was filled with equipment and supplies.

As he walked, he struck up a conversation with Helena: "What do you think about going to the coast? We don't have any direction or desires in this ruined world. We might as well catch a boat and visit famous places."

Helena, with a neutral expression, commented: "It'd be a good plan if those damn bikers weren't controlling the port."

Elias's smile faded. He raised his right fist, signaling the presence of wanderer ahead. Moving to the side, he gestured for Helena to follow him down an alley that cut through the path.

The only problem was the amount of rotting flesh scattered around the area and the possibility of living wanderer mixed among the dead.

Walking through the alley, Elias covered his face with one hand, trying to block out the putrid smell emanating from the crowd of bodies strewn across the ground. With his face scrunched up, he murmured, "This place stinks so much."

Helena, already irritated with the situation, responded sarcastically: "Don't tell me! Did you figure that out all by yourself, genius?"

Without saying anything, Elias crouched down, grabbed a bloodied intestine, and tossed it at her. The projectile hit Helena's face directly. He quickened his pace, trying to avoid retaliation.

Wiping her face in anger, Helena shouted in a threatening tone: "If I catch you, you'll regret it!"

The alley seemed to stretch infinitely, with walls covered in moss and faded graffiti narrating the chaos of a lost world. Each step echoed through the tense silence as the two siblings tried to ignore the oppressive presence of decomposing bodies.

Helena, still wiping the remnants of Elias's impromptu attack, looked at him with a mix of exhaustion and frustration.

"You're really a child, you know? One day, this will get you in trouble."

Elias merely shrugged, keeping his mischievous smile. He knew that, despite her constant complaints, Helena always ended up forgiving his pranks. It was their way of maintaining some normalcy in a world that had lost everything.

While talking, he didn't realize where he was stepping and slipped in a fresh puddle of blood.

The fall sent him crashing to the filthy ground, and before he could get up, he felt a cold hand gripping his leg. An wanderer on the ground had awakened.

Panicked, Elias screamed: "Helena, help me! This damn thing grabbed me!"

Helena quickly advanced, stabbing the undead's head with the bayonet. She then reached out her hand to Elias, who grabbed it and struggled to get up.

With an irritated sigh, he said, "Let's get out of here."

Reaching the rusted fence marking the end of the alley, Elias warned: "Be careful not to cut yourself. The last thing we need is to get sick in this hell."

They carefully descended the fence, but as soon as their feet hit the ground on the other side, figures emerged from the shadows. Men in paramilitary uniforms blocked their way.

One of them, a bald man with a rifle aimed, stepped forward and smiled with disdain: "You thought you could leave after enjoying our hospitality?"

Elias frowned and replied: "We've already paid our debt to Smiley. He assured us we could leave without problems."

The bald man gave a cold smile. "That's true, you paid what you owed to Smiley. But Smiley doesn't give orders anymore. Now, I'm the one in charge. And you're going to work for me."

Irritated, Elias retorted: "That wasn't the deal, Tony! Are you going to throw your honor away? Since when did you become a hypocrite?"

Tony laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "The deal has changed. Now it's simple: either you work for me, or you become food for the wanderer in the alley next door. The choice is yours."

Helena, with wide eyes, realized the trick. She looked toward the alley they had just left and saw why there were so many wanderer there. Tony had orchestrated everything to corner them.

Desperate, she spoke quickly: "We don't have a choice, Elias. Either we go with them, or we die here. They've planned this from the start."

Elias clenched his fists, his face contorted with frustration. The images of the past years flashed like a film in his mind: all the battles, all the losses, everything to escape this kind of slavery. Now, it seemed all for nothing.

With a heavy sigh, he finally nodded in resignation. "Damn... we were so close."

Elias knew what this meant: more years of servitude, being used as a tool by these bastards. But for now, it was the only way to survive.

He began to follow Tony and his men, while Helena silently trailed behind him.