The acrid scent of scorched metal and lingering smoke filled the air as Erin Hart sprinted down the cracked thoroughfare of what had once been a glittering metropolis. Decayed skyscrapers, their tops jagged where glass and steel had crumbled, loomed overhead like skeletal giants clawing at a poisoned sky. Her breath came in ragged bursts, her striking red hair plastered against her damp forehead as sweat dripped down into the collar of her jumpsuit—a sleek hybrid of deep azure and vibrant yellow, its ribbed sections and reinforced fabric close-fitting yet marked with grime and wear, battle scars from her life in the wasteland. A large metallic device on her left arm, the “Echo-Brace,” blinked with data, its dull green screen casting an eerie glow over her freckled skin. Clutched firmly in her right hand was the prize: a glass bottle labeled “Eden Elixir,” its faint, amber liquid swirling hypnotically against the retro font of the label.
The sound of snapping metal and the echoed groan of machines pierced the ruined atmosphere. Behind her, the mechanical monstrosity surged forward, its eight spindly legs stabbing the fractured pavement with ruthless precision. The Hunter-Drone, a relic of the Pre-Fall era, had been reactivated by one of the rogue factions amidst the ruins. Two crimson eyes burned like coals in its bulbous, arachnid-like head, and beneath its carapace a hum of energy thundered as it primed its energy lances. Erin ducked behind an upturned transport vehicle, its hull scorched black, and exhaled shakily.
“Hart,” a tinny voice crackled through the Echo-Brace. It was Miles, her field partner, who had stayed behind to protect their makeshift camp. “Talk to me. Did you get it?”
“Yes,” she hissed, clutching the bottle tightly. “But unless you’re planning to materialize out of thin air with a bazooka, I’ve got zero exit bets right now.”
“That’s… unfortunate,” Miles replied, trying—and failing—to mask the worry in his voice. “Still alive is better than dead. Keep running till you hit the overpass at Sector Eight. I’ve got drones en route.”
“Sector Eight?” Erin peered out from her hiding place. A mile down the decayed road, framed by iron support beams that looked like skeletal fingers clawing at the air, loomed Sector Eight Bridge. Beneath it, a chasm plunged into darkness, a jagged scar in the earth from the wars that had rewritten the map of the world. “You better not screw this up, Miles. My funeral doesn’t include mech spiders.”
The Hunter-Drone screeched, a burst of plasma shearing off the edge of her cover. Erin cursed, leaping from her hiding place with nothing but instinct and a fire in her gut that wouldn’t let her die. Her boots pounded the ground as the bridge grew closer, the hulking drone’s shadow crawling across the pavement behind her. She could feel the heat of its targeting sensors washing over her, a sinister promise of annihilation.
Her jumpsuit caught the faint glow of flickering neon signs, the remnants of Old Civilization’s hubris. The glowing green screen of her Echo-Brace ticked down the estimated meters now separating her from Sector Eight. Five hundred. Four hundred. Three hundred…
As she hit the bridge’s threshold, something burst onto the horizon—a convoy of Spiderbots, Fleet Division. Erin’s heart dipped; they weren’t allies. Shimmering with iridescent plating, their forms were eerily similar to the Hunter-Drone but sleeker, faster. They were undoubtedly drawn by the promise of the relic she held. Humanity’s remnants weren’t the unified resistance the stories painted them to be; factions splintered over survival, greed, and forgotten allegiances.
“Miles,” she growled into the Echo-Brace as she ducked beneath an energy lance that seared the air mere inches above her shoulder. “Your ‘help’ is running a little late, and we’ve got uninvited guests.”
Static answered her, and she gritted her teeth, weaving through the debris-laden bridge. With the relentless pace of rusted destruction behind her and technological hunters ahead, she scanned desperately for an out—a gap, an angle, anything that didn’t result in vaporization or being reduced to a pile of red and burnt blue. Movement flickered above her, and her gaze jerked skyward.
There it was. Miles’s ominously cobbled-together hovercraft—barely more stable than a bicycle welded to a jet engine—burst through the smog-choked skyline, its thrusters spitting blue flames as it careened in her direction. The mercenary pilot, his wiry silhouette framed by the blinking lights of the craft’s cockpit, leaned out and shouted, “RUN HARDER, HART!”
“Oh, thanks for that life-changing advice!” she yelled back, just as the tongues of green flame scorched the ground behind her. Without slowing, she tore the Echo-Brace from her wrist and hurled it skyward. Miles twisted the transporter in a hard dive, catching the device in one fluid motion. Data streamed onto his screen. “Got the relay link. Cover me while I initiate the decoy.”
“Are you insane?” Erin bellowed as she darted toward the rising edge of the broken bridge while the eight-legged juggernaut bore down on her heels. Behind it, the Fleet Division spiders skittered with eerie quickness. The gap yawned open ahead—a drop that would put gravity’s uncaring hand to the test. Miles grinned over the comms.
“Trust me! Jump! Now!”
Years of bad luck and equal measures of worse instincts screamed at her not to comply. The roar of mechanical death behind her made the decision a fraction easier. With a defiant yell, she launched herself into the air, her blue-and-yellow suit catching the faint glint of a sun struggling to break through the ashen clouds.
The Hunter-Drone let out a piercing screech, just as the relic bottle emitted a low hum. Miles had tapped into its frequency, broadcasting a distorted field that overwhelmed its circuits. The drone lurched violently, its limbs skidding and convulsing, before toppling over the bridge’s edge in a fiery cascade. The remaining Fleet Division spiders skittered to a halt, confusion flashing through their glowing red optics as they reeled from the interference.
Erin caught hold of the hovercraft’s low-slung deck, gripping tightly as Miles maneuvered out of range of the chaos. “You’re welcome!” he quipped, offering her a hand up.
She struggled to her feet, breathless, clutching the Eden Elixir to her chest. Dust smudged her pale face, her crimson curls whipping in the wind as the remnants of the bridge disappeared in the distance. Below them stretched the desolation of their world—a tapestry of ruins and unyielding wilderness. But in her hand was hope, glowing faintly in its amber depths.
“You’re out of your damn mind,” she said, though a begrudging smile tugged at her lips.
Miles shrugged. “Sometimes, it’s the crazy ones who survive.”
The hovercraft faded into the oppressive haze, carrying with it two scavengers and the faintest glimmer of a future worth fighting for.
Genre: Post-apocalyptic sci-fi adventure
The Source…check out the article that inspired this amazing short story: Channeling Vault Vibes: Unleash Cosplay Magic with a Blue and Yellow Jumpsuit
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