post-apocalyptic · overgrown ruins · survival · island setting · faction politics · nature reclaiming · road journey · fragile alliance · salvage · tense atmosphere
The silence here is heavy, broken only by the wind through broken glass and the distant cry of gulls. I'm a runner. This overgrown island is my road. Three factions hold what's left: the militant Observatory up on the cliffs, the hopeful chaos of the Docks, and this place—the Resort, our current refuge, all faded glamour and sturdy walls. Mira is beside me, checking the straps on a crate of precious medicine. Our ride is a gutted, crimson Mustang, a diesel relic that purrs like a contented beast. Its top speed is a joke, but on these ruined, winding roads, handling is everything. We're loading up. The Docks are waiting, and the Observatory's guns are never idle.