Semua Bab The Burning: Bab 71 - Bab 80

Project Inferno had been a government initiative, a secret project designed to develop a new kind of weapon —something that could burn entire landscapes in a matter of hours. Wildfire, but faster. Hotter. More destructive. And Chloe… I froze, my eyes locking onto a familiar name. Chloe's name. She... She had been involved. She had been part of the team. My stomach churned, nausea rising as I stared at the words in front of me. Chloe had known. She had been part of the project that had unleashed this hell on the world. "This can't be real." I whispered, my voice shaking. "She wouldn’t have—" “Maya,” Daniel interrupted, his voice tight. “There’s more.” I looked up, and he handed me another file. This one was thicker, the pages dog-eared and stained with something I didn’t want to think about. I opened it, and the first thing I saw was a map—our region, marked with red X's. Target zones. “I think this is where The Burning started.” Daniel said, pointing to the ma

Wells' jaw tightened. “We weren’t going to let the government cover it up. My unit was sent to investigate, yes, but we weren’t loyal to the people who caused this. We wanted to expose them. To bring the truth to light.” I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the small room. “The truth? You think exposing the truth is going to fix any of this? It’ll destroy what little we have left. People will lose whatever faith they have in rebuilding. Civilization will collapse all over again.” Wells didn’t flinch. “People deserve to know the truth, Maya. They deserve to know what was done to them.” I shook my head, the anger giving way to exhaustion. “And what happens when they find out? What happens when they realize that their own government burned them alive, that Chloe —someone they trusted —was part of it? What do you think that’ll do to them? To us?” Wells stepped closer, her voice calm but insistent. “It’s not about what it’ll do to us. It’s about justice. About holding the people res

He hesitated, his brow furrowing as if he were trying to find the right words. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you a long time ago.” My stomach tightened. I didn’t like the sound of this. "Ben..." He stopped walking, turning to face me fully, his expression serious. "I knew about Chloe." The air seemed to leave my lungs all at once. "What....?" "I knew about her involvement in The Burning." he said, his voice steady but heavy with regret. "I....I knew before we ever got to the settlement. Before we ever found those documents." I stared at him, my mind racing. "You knew? ...how?" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s a long story, but... back when we were with that other group, before we got separated, I came across some intel. I didn’t understand all of it at the time, but Chloe’s name was there, tied to Project Inferno. I didn’t know the full extent of her involvement, but I knew enough to realize she wasn’t just some random survi

As we got closer, the outline of a small farmstead came into view. It was nestled against the edge of a narrow stream— miraculously still running —and surrounded by a patch of what looked like actual crops. Corn, maybe, or something that used to be corn before the world ended. The sight of growing things, of life persisting despite everything, made my throat tight with emotion."Look at that" I whispered, almost afraid to speak too loudly and break whatever spell was keeping this place alive. "Actual plants. Growing. How is this possible??"Ben shot me a cautious look, ever the pragmatist. "Could be a trap. You know how some groups operate. Make something look too good to be true, wait for desperate people to come running.""It could be," I admitted, remembering all too well the stories we'd heard about such things. "But I don't think we have much choice. We need water, and this place looks like it has it. Besides, if it were raiders, they'd probably have worse security. This place

The mornings at Eli’s farm were quiet, the kind of quiet that felt almost sacred in a world like ours. No distant gunfire, no grim-faced survivors shouting orders, no smoke curling from the ruins of a settlement. just the soft rustle of wind through the crops, the occasional lowing of a cow in the distance, and the steady rhythm of our footsteps as we worked the land. The air smelled of earth and life. It was a stark contrast to the acrid tang of burning metal and ash that had seemed to cling to me for years.Here, the only smells were simple ones: the sweetness of hay, the faint iron tang of soil on my hands, and sometimes the sharp, almost medicinal scent of the herbs Eli kept hanging in the barn. It had been weeks since Ben and I arrived, stumbling through the farm’s weathered gates with nothing but the clothes on our backs and the weight of our pasts. I hadn’t planned to stay. I wasn’t even sure what had driven me to keep walking after the settlement fell apart. The idea of s