Chapter 4: Strangers in the Dust
The cold wind whispered across the broken concrete of a once-bustling city. Two months had passed since Ethan escaped the ruined Foundation facility—two long, silent months of hiding, wandering, and surviving. Every step he took was a calculated risk. SCPs roamed the wastelands now, some corrupted and violent, others eerily dormant. Cities had become tombs, swallowed by shadows.
Ethan moved carefully through alleyways, never staying in one place too long. He scavenged food from empty stores and abandoned shelters, drank from cracked water tanks, and slept in the husks of vehicles. He'd seen no other human life—no lights, no voices, no footsteps. Only the echo of a world that had been.
At times, he doubted himself. Was he the last one left?
Then, one evening, he saw smoke.
A thin trail curled into the overcast sky, barely visible. It wasn't natural—someone was cooking. He approached quietly, crouched low, moving between broken walls and vehicles. His heart pounded—not from fear, but from something dangerously close to hope.
He crept behind an overturned truck and peered around the corner. In a small clearing by the ruins of a collapsed supermarket, two figures sat near a fire. One was a young woman with striking black hair and piercing blue eyes. She was cleaning a jagged steel blade, her movements calm and practiced. Beside her was a boy—no older than fifteen—hunched over a salvaged radio, fiddling with the wires.
Ethan stepped out cautiously, hands raised, a makeshift blade strapped to his back. "Are you… human? Or… something else?"
The woman instantly rose, putting herself between him and the boy. Her eyes locked onto Ethan's, calm but alert.
"No," she said. "We're human. Just survivors, like you."
Ethan studied her for a moment, then lowered his hands. He exhaled slowly, the tension slipping away.
"I'm Ethan," he said. "I think we should work together from now on to survive. And I'm also looking for survivors to forge a team. Do you want to stick with me?"
The woman glanced at the boy, who gave her a small nod.
"Guess we have no choice but to stick with you," she replied, her voice light but sincere.
"I'm Lira," she added. "And this is Nolan, my little brother."
Ethan offered a small smile. "Nice to meet you."
They sat together near the fire, exchanging brief stories. Lira had once been a military medic before everything collapsed. When the world fell apart, she'd rescued Nolan from a collapsing evacuation zone. Together, they'd escaped the chaos and wandered ever since. She carried a sword—an antique she'd found in a museum, sharpened and reforged for survival.
Ethan told them only fragments of his story. About the Foundation. About the prison. About SCP-990. The rest could wait.
That night, for the first time in months, Ethan didn't sleep alone. And for the first time in longer, he allowed himself to hope.
Tomorrow, they would move forward—together.
To be continued...
> 🔹 Note from the author:
I'm still improving as a writer, and the story gets much better from Chapter 7 onward — deeper characters, more intense twists, and way darker vibes.
Thanks for giving it a shot 💙