Lucas jerked awake on the bedroom floor, his body stiff. His brother—Roland—had curled against him through the night, and Lucas wrapped around him like some makeshift shield. Their mother slept above them on the bed, buried under a mound of jumpers and jeans she’d piled on herself. Practical insulation without the risk of venturing downstairs for proper bedding.

  She’d refused sheets from below. Too dangerous, she’d said. The wolves might return.

  They would return. Lucas knew it. So did she.

  Morning light crept across the hallway when Lucas finally stirred himself and woke his mother. Empty. Silent. He checked twice before crossing to his bedroom door and knocking.

  Minutes passed—too many, really—before Isabelle opened it.

  Her eyes swept over him with the same wary assessment from yesterday, searching his face for... what?

  Signs of betrayal? Some shift in his character overnight?

  The scrutiny pricked him. He’d saved her, after all. Well. Saved was generous. She’d stopped Ian herself. Lucas had simply offered her somewhere to go when she’d needed it most desperately.

  The German shepherd padded over, nudging Lucas’s leg in greeting.

  “You alright, boy?” Lucas scratched behind the dog’s ears.

  “Can I help?” Isabelle cut in.

  He glanced back. “Yeah, I just need to grab something from my room, if that’s okay.”

  She stepped aside. Thank god. Would’ve been awkward if she’d blocked him from his own space.

  Inside, Sasha still burrowed under the sheets, soft snores escaping her.

  “Oh, I didn’t realise she was sleeping.” Lucas paused, suddenly conscious he’d interrupted both their rest.

  Isabelle shook her head. “It’s fine. Sasha, wake up.” She moved to the bed, gently rocking the little girl.

  Sasha’s eyes peeled open with theatrical annoyance, and she grumbled something unintelligible. Funny, in a way—the world had ended, and yet children still resented morning wake-ups. Roland had been the same yesterday. That innocence persisted.

  Lucas crossed to his drawers, rifling through them until his hand closed around an old Dizzy Dave uniform. He scoffed.

  “Something wrong?” Isabelle asked, pulling her hair into a ponytail with a band she’d gotten from somewhere.

  “Nothing. Just this.” He held up the shirt with its ridiculous badge. “Only silver lining to the apocalypse? No eight-hour shift at work today. Richard had scheduled me and everything.”

  He dropped the shirt. The dog wandered over, sniffed it, then sneezed and sat down, tail thumping.

  Eventually, Lucas found what he actually needed: a toothbrush and toothpaste. No running water for proper brushing, but spit and gentle scrubbing would keep things clean enough.

  “Are you alright?” he asked Isabelle, who’d been watching him in silence.

  She nodded. “I’m as alright as anyone else could be in a situation like this.”

  He wanted to press her. To ask what had changed yesterday, what had made her pull inward like that, convinced they’d all die. But was that fair? Would interrogating someone clearly grieving—possibly slipping into depression—accomplish anything?

  A knock interrupted his thoughts. His mother walked in without waiting for permission.

  “I want you all downstairs now,” she demanded. “We have plans to go over today, and it’s best to get moving before the sun’s fully up. Everyone else will probably still be thinking this is all gonna blow over and the government is gonna be here.”

  They nodded. The dog followed her out while Sasha tumbled out of bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

  Minutes later, they assembled in the kitchen. Roland kicked his legs, staring at the sweets on the counter—sweets he wouldn’t be eating for a while. That food would outlast the vegetables slowly thawing in the dead fridge.

  Lucas rubbed his stomach, watching sunlight flicker across the kitchen table. “So, I take it you have some plan for today?”

  His mother nodded, taking a breath. She looked between him and Isabelle. “As I said yesterday, I personally.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “Don’t believe that the government is going to be coming to our rescue. I also believe that, unlike us, most people are still numb to that fact.”

  She shook her head. “But don’t get me wrong, there will be people who are way ahead of me on this, probably have already started scavenging supplies, maybe going to places where they think they can make the most profit. And that’s why today I want to focus on scavenging.”

  “You going out?” Lucas asked.

  His mother—now wearing jeans and a tank top under a zip-up jacket—looked ready for urban exploration, or something equally adventurous.

  Lucas’s mother shook her head. “I’ll be staying here and trying to reinforce the house a bit.” Her head dropped as she sighed. “I wish I hadn’t treated those prepper videos as such a curiosity. I should have taken them for what they were—gospel, warning of this.” She gestured at the kitchen window and the world beyond. “Maybe then I’d be better prepared.”

  Or more insufferable. But Lucas kept that observation to himself.

  “As for you, Lucas, I want to send you out to scavenge.” His eyes widened. Not bad, actually. He needed to hunt more wolves anyway and accumulate more XP to reach the steps. “You’re the man of the house now,” she continued, “and will have to take charge in that regard.”

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  Lucas nodded.

  “If you don’t mind, Isabel, I’d also like for you to go with him.”

  Isabelle frowned, her hand moving to her sister’s shoulder.

  “Don’t worry,” his mother continued, “I’ll look after her. But I want someone other than just a dog watching my son’s back.”

  The German Shepherd groaned and dropped its head to the floor, making an offended grumbling noise. His mother had insulted it. Lucas sympathised with it—the dog had been their protector, especially with Ian. No pushover. It had skills and a class.

  “So what do you think?” his mother asked.

  Isabelle looked at Sasha, who looked back and nodded. “I’ll be fine, Izzy. You just go help Lucas. I’m sure he’ll need it anyway with those scary monsters out there.”

  Isabelle turned to him. “When shall we go?”

  “I was thinking now,” Lucas replied. Better to move before everyone else woke up and realised they’d fallen behind.

  Minutes later, Lucas and Isabelle left the house with the dog. He’d grabbed one of his own backpacks, leaving the one from the butcher’s shop in his mother’s room with the supplies and blueprint.

  Hopefully, today, they could defeat more wolves, and he could figure out how to craft the helmet from that blueprint. After all, it only specified needing matching resources. The system probably had a command word or something that would create the item once he’d met the requirements.

  The streets sprawled empty before them. Doors locked. No sound from any of the houses. Probably unnecessary, but Lucas kept them low anyway, scanning for creatures. Nothing attacked.

  But that didn’t mean nothing watched them, or no one. His mother’s words echoed. Situations like this changed people. Yesterday’s neighbour could become tomorrow’s threat as desperation mounted.

  “What do you think’s gonna happen?” Isabelle asked from behind, her foot tapping the pavement as they crouched by an abandoned car.

  Lucas stopped. Glanced over his shoulder at Isabelle, then at the dog wagging its tail. “I’m not sure,” he said, shifting to face her. He rested his hand against the car and peeked over its bonnet.

  Across the street, a house stood with its door hanging open. No one had closed it yet. Empty, probably. Or wolves had taken whoever lived there. He ducked back down. “If I had to guess, for now, we survive. We loot and we try to rebuild.”

  “Society,” Isabelle muttered, uncomfortable with where he was heading.

  He nodded. “Society, though hopefully this hasn’t blown us all the way back to the Stone Age.”

  “What makes you say that?” Isabelle asked, interlocking her fingers.

  “Just standard logic. Take a pencil, for instance. We use those every day, almost.”

  “I don’t. I prefer a pen.”

  Lucas rolled his eyes. “Semantics. Either way, pen or pencil, do you know how to make one?”

  Isabelle paused. “Well, you could...” Then she stalled, her mind clearly working on a solution Lucas was pretty sure didn’t exist. No single person knew how to make a pencil. It required materials from different parts of the world, supply chains and logistics that were fragile at best.

  “Either way,” Lucas said, pulling her attention back, “survival and getting the basics is what we need to focus on now.”

  “And do you have a location that you want to go to already?” Isabelle asked.

  Lucas nodded, turning and moving along the pavement. There was a store he’d noticed yesterday on their return—one of those corner shops with most everything. They didn’t match supermarket inventory, but they’d have cereal, maybe milk. Definitely canned goods and other essential supplies. Lucas hoped no one had gotten there first.

  ????ˊ? ·?? ? ? ? ??· ??ˋ???

  Just over ten minutes later, Lucas stood next to his summoned capsule. Isabelle positioned herself by the door, bow in hand, with the dog beside her. They’d discovered an empty studio in one of the upstairs flats, just above a broken shop on the far side of the street. A few paces from their target location. An easy fallback point if things went sideways.

  “That’s pretty impressive,” Isabelle stammered, eyeing his capsule.

  Awe spread across her face when he’d summoned it, as if her own bow summoning was any less remarkable. She’d pulled the thing from the void, yet his larger capsule impressed her more.

  “It’s not really much,” Lucas said. His mouth pulled into a frown as he considered his next words. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

  She turned, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

  Lucas swallowed. “Are you alright? I mean...” He rubbed his hands on his trousers, searching for words. “I mean, really, alright? This all, for you, I’m sure, feels rushed. You haven’t even had time to grieve properly.” Her father had died, and while she’d cried about it, that seemed like it should just be the beginning. Sad, sure. But she had to be holding something back.

  “Really? You want to ask something like that right now?” Isabelle said, crossing her arms, the bow gripped firmly.

  “I mean...” He shrugged. “It’s as good a time as any.” Lucas’s gaze drifted to the dog. “I still haven’t even given him a name, and this could be the last time I see either of you alive before I’m mauled by a passing group of wolves.”

  Isabelle’s jaw worked, tongue moving around her mouth. She looked to the side. Silence stretched between them.

  “I don’t want to die,” she said after a few moments. “I have my sister to protect, and that right now is what’s keeping me going.” She turned toward him, determination taking over her gaze—though the wariness from before remained.

  Not that he would ever betray her, but with all she’d been through, he was beginning to understand where she was coming from.

  The way she saw it, people were dying around her, and at any moment, someone could just flip, and the next thing she knew, someone might sacrifice her and her sister to those creatures. Lucas never planned such a thing. Still, he understood.

  But it didn’t mean he agreed.

  “Alright, you don’t have to delve too much into it.” He rested a hand on the capsule glass. Sensing his intention, the edges hissed, white trails of steam twirling off them. The glass screen moved back, revealing the seat within.

  “Is that comfortable?” Isabelle asked.

  He glanced back and shrugged. “Not really sure. So far I’ve only used it once, and that was under a lot of stress. Even then, I kind of just got out as soon as I was done.”

  Lucas threw himself inside. His back thumped against soft leather. Actually, quite comfortable. Before his thoughts could develop further, he blacked out—then blinked awake, sensing a hook unlatch itself from him as he dropped to the wooden floor with a groan of wood.

  Feet. Metal feet. Clanking against the floor, he stepped around the capsule, and Isabelle jerked back.

  “What?” he asked. “It’s me.”

  “I figured that much,” Isabelle said, “but it’s weird.”

  “Weird how?” he asked in the same distant-sounding voice.

  “It’s like your face is a screen and you’re being recorded, and it’s showing that recording to me through your face.”

  Lucas frowned. “Is it like those VR goggles that show your eyes?”

  Isabelle nodded. “Yeah, exactly like that, though more real. And I think that’s what makes it even creepier.”

  Lucas’s shoulders sagged. He let out a sigh. Figures, the world ended, and somehow he’d gained a suit that made him less appealing to have a social conversation with.

  “I guess I won’t be rocking up in this suit to any parties anytime soon.”

  Isabelle scoffed—holding back sharp laughter, it sounded like—before stepping away from the door. “Shall we?”

  “We can, but before that, I think we need to give him a name,” Lucas said, pointing to the dog. “No lie. While I know you have a name,” the dog cocked his head to the side, waiting for him to continue, “I don’t want to keep calling you ‘dog’ until we figure it out. How about we give you a temporary name? Because I don’t think you can spell. Wait, can you spell?”