Chapter 1: Arvess Pearce
SATURDAY, JULY 10, 7642
ARCHEBES, SCRAP YARD S4
6 YEARS AFTER FALLOUT
Today was like others since they, The Revivalists, let 4,500 of the remaining population above ground. It's always surprised me how we, humanity, managed to restore a fraction of the once 7.3 billion people. Before I was 'selected' The Hub, a mass bunker system build several kilometers into the Earth's crust, had a total population of around 370,000. It's honestly unbelievable that humanity could thrive underground without succumbing to insanity.
But that prompts the question which has been eating at my mind from the moment the initial elation of clear fresh air in my lungs, and a cool breeze through my auburn hair subsided. Why?
If we were doing so well in The Hub, why send us up? Why waste the energy sending 4,500 of us back up to what could be a radiative wasteland? It just doesn't make sense. At first, I'd thought we were just the first group, but now after 2 months, it seems more and more like I'm deluding myself. As it the thought of humanity above ground was nothing more than a pipe dream, never to come true.
"Arvess," someone yelled from the west of Scrap Yard S4, one of the many places we, the 4,500, search for infrastructural materials for houses. Some of us, including myself, made weapons out of the scrap. Mine was especially difficult to make, A bow and arrows made of metal and vines.It took at least a week to get the bow in a condition suitable for holding, then easily another half a week to string it and make arrows.
But all that paid off when I started bringing in at least 7-10 lbs. of game per week. More on a good day. "Yeah," I hollered back as I started the 4 meter trek over towards them. My gait trained for rough terrain after only two months.
"Remember how you told me you had a fascination with old bomb relics," Fynn Stravic an 18-year-old, blonde with eyes the color of a cloudless sky, I now know yelled, I've just about reached him when something caught my eye. I bent down and picked up a small piece of metal, probably steel, with a small crow painted in black along its surface. The symbol of a group once devoted to preventing the event now known as The Fallout. Sadly the evidence of their abysmal failure is surrounding us.
"What is it," Fynn asked from somewhere to my right. He wasn't as versed in our nation's history as I am. He at one time told me that I know more about the world around me than most of us 'surfacers' as we called ourselves. I immediately shot down the notion, I've never liked to feel superior, or in power at all. Of course, I can't avoid that position whilst hunting, given I'm one of the best shots we've got.
"Nothing," I said a bit too quickly, not particularly wanting to engage that history lesson. I was going to leave it there but couldn't stop myself from asking, "What'd you find?" I was a wellspring of regret.
The regret vanishedinstantly when Fynn said "Oh nothing much, Just this old thing," and picked up an old bombshell fragment, I've amassed a numerous collection of the things.
"'Nothing much'" I scoffed, "Fynn this is incredible, I mean just look at it," I was ecstatic, it had been at least two weeks since I'd last found one, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't keep the smile off my face. I took the fragment from Fynn like it was the last of our food, and stuffed it in my bag of scraps.
"Easy there Vess, wouldn't want you passing out on me," Fynn said sarcastically, laughing slightly by the end of the sentence. I smirked, hitting him in the arm playfully, both of us bursting into a fit of laughter. "C'mon, we gotta get back to camp,"Fynn said, and I was still catching my breath when he started walking back south.
His gait wasn't much different from my own, already a smooth glide over rough terrain as if he'd known nothing else, though his lacked the subtlety and grace of a hunter. Fynn's size would also put him at a disadvantage compared to mine. I was smaller, leaner, more agile whereas Fynn, well he's almost entirely muscle. Big and well built for his age, however, given there's no people up here to fend off with some show of strength it's not as useful as it first seems.
We made our way through 'the scrap metal jungle' as some call it, though most of the 4,500 don't appreciate the metal blanket the way I do. I mean I come here every day just foraging for anything useful or most of the time has some historical value, not that anyone cares about the history of a damned world.
"Ya find anything good today," Fynn asked from where he walked a couple of feet in front of me. He's always interested in the seeming useless hunks of 100-year-old metal, I don't mind telling him either, makes my outwardly bizarre hobby more justified.
"Yeah," I replied, "a couple more bomb fragments, a few nuts and bolts, the usual haul," I listed off what was currently in my bag save for the crow. Although I do typically bring in about 8 lbs of scrap per day. I'll sometimes sell some to those of us who don't want to spend their time surrounded by metal.
"I think you forgot something," Fynn said his tone both suspicious and knowing at the same time. The crow 'Shit, he knows,'I thought and was on the precipice of panic when he continued, "but clearly you don't want to talk about it sooo, I'll leave it be," with that I felt my panic disapate in seconds. I felt my body start to release the tension I was unaware even existed, sighing softly.
Up ahead Fynn had, unbeknownst to me, stopped at the crest of a hill, probably sightseeing. Till I walked right into him causing him to roll down, that is. Although, as he started to fall Fynn grabbed my ankle and before I knew it I was tumbling down towards the flat ground with him. I screamed before I could stop myself, meanwhile Fynn was laughing so hard his face was going blue.
When we reached the bottom I shot up off the ground and dusted of my dark, semi ripped jeans. Fynn was still laughing when I turned, nostrils flaring, towards him. "What the hell was that!" I yelled down at him as he regained some sembalance of composure. I would've continued my rant had one of the older Surfacers, Darven Kalvaust not come over.
"Pearce," Darven yelled "Enough," he gave me a pointed look, and I knew it was no use fighting against him and Fynn, so I gathered my possessions and walked away without another word.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Emo_Emu4239
Emo_Emu4239 Hey anyone who actually made it this far, congratulations. Sadly I can't give you an award but I can give you the next so if you enjoy then please vote and comment. Until next time, enjoy the void.
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