Chapter 6 – Fire Beneath the Skin
The sun was sinking behind the crumbling skyline.
Wind swept through the ruins, carrying the smell of rust, old blood, and dust.
Lucas staggered forward, katana still in hand. Every step hurt, but that inner fire—the strange pulse burning under his skin—still kept him upright.
Megan held him by the arm, supporting his weight.
"Come on… just a little further. There—see that house?" she said, pointing to a two-story home, half-collapsed but still standing.
Lucas barely nodded. Sweat and dust clung to his face; his breathing came shallow and ragged.
They pushed the front door open. Inside, everything was covered in cobwebs and gray dust, but there was a living room—old sofa, drawn curtains, silence.
"Sit down," Megan ordered, dropping her backpack beside him.
Lucas sank onto the couch, leaning the katana against the floor.
"You don't have to—" he started.
"Shut up." Her voice trembled, but it was steady enough. "Let me help you."
She pulled a small metal box from her bag: gauze, alcohol, bandages, painkillers.
"It was my parents'. I kept it… just in case."
Kneeling in front of him, she took his arm gently and began cleaning the deep gash on his forearm.
Lucas hissed. "Ow—yeah, that burns."
"You earned it." Megan gave a faint smile, though her eyes were still glossy. "I don't know how you're still standing after what you did out there."
Lucas leaned back, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"I don't know either… I felt something inside me break. Like I was burning from the inside, but couldn't stop."
She cleaned the dried blood from his hands in silence. The only sound left was the wind rattling the boarded windows.
"When I saw you fall," she whispered, "I thought you wouldn't get up. That I'd be alone again."
Lucas met her gaze with a tired half-smile.
"I'm not leaving you alone, Megan. Not after this."
She lowered her eyes, pretending to focus on the bandages.
"Don't say that," she murmured. "Just… don't make me worry like that again."
He laughed softly. "I'll try not to die, promise."
Megan finished wrapping his arm and exhaled.
"Lucky for you, I learned first aid at university," she said, brushing hair from her face. "Though this isn't exactly how I pictured using it."
"What did you study?" Lucas asked.
"Biology." She shrugged. "Ironic, isn't it? Surviving in a world I can't even understand anymore."
Lucas watched the orange light seeping through a crack in the curtains.
"Maybe that's why you survived. Maybe the world needs people who try to understand it."
She smiled sadly. "And you? What did you do before all this?"
He paused, eyes resting on the katana's edge.
"Nothing important. I just… lived."
"And now you kill monsters with fire and steel," Megan said with a crooked smile.
Lucas chuckled. "Guess life takes strange turns."
Night fell. Megan lit a small flashlight and shut the curtains tight. The air inside was cold, but the silence felt safe.
Lucas lay back on the sofa, exhausted. Megan sat beside him, hugging her knees.
"I can't stop thinking about what you said," she murmured. "About feeling something inside you."
"Yeah…" Lucas flexed his hands, staring at them. "It's like there's a beast asleep under my skin. Every time I fight, it wakes up. The stronger it beats, the less I feel afraid."
"Doesn't that scare you?" she asked softly.
Lucas smiled faintly at the ceiling.
"Yeah. But it also makes me feel alive. More alive than ever."
She watched him for a while, saying nothing, then rested her head on his shoulder, eyes closing from exhaustion.
"Rest, Lucas. Tomorrow we keep going."
"Yeah," he murmured. "Tomorrow."
Outside, the wind moaned through hollow streets. Somewhere in the distance, monsters cried out. But inside that broken house, for the first time in days, someone slept without fear.
---
Dawn found them awake before the sun.
A pale gray-blue light slipped through the curtains. The air was cold, and the streets outside looked dusted with ash.
Lucas checked their gear: the katana clean, Megan's bow slung over her shoulder, backpacks packed tight. The silence beyond the door was deep, broken only by wind pushing paper down the street.
"It's time to go," he said, tightening his jacket.
Megan nodded, closing the medicine bag and pocketing the flashlight.
"The longer we stay, the more likely something finds us."
They stepped out carefully. The morning air cut sharp against their faces. The city looked like a skeleton under the pale sky.
For hours they walked through streets once filled with life—now only glass, twisted signs, and cars rusting in place. Sometimes they passed bodies—some human, others impossible to identify. Megan kept her eyes down; Lucas didn't. He'd already seen too much to look away.
"Looks like everyone headed south," she said, reading a rusted highway sign. "If Washington's still standing, it must be flooded with refugees."
Lucas pressed his lips into a thin line. "We'll find out when we get there."
They passed under a fallen billboard stretched across the road:
WELCOME TO CHICAGO. COME BACK SOON.
Irony in ten feet of steel.
The weak sun climbed slowly. And then, turning a corner, they saw it.
A car.
Not wrecked. Not overturned.
A black sedan, windows intact, keys still in the ignition.
Megan's eyes went wide. "No way…" She ran to it and peered inside. "It's in good shape!"
Lucas approached carefully, scanning the surroundings.
"You sure it's not a trap?"
"I don't think so," she said, opening the driver's door. "Smells old, but there's gas in the tank."
Lucas sighed, relieved. "Perfect."
Then he hesitated.
"What?" Megan asked.
He scratched his neck awkwardly. "There's… a small problem."
She raised an eyebrow. "What kind of problem?"
Lucas gave a sheepish grin. "I don't know how to drive."
Megan blinked. "What?"
"Never learned." He lifted his hands, embarrassed. "Bikes, motorcycles, sure. Cars? Not my thing."
For a second she just stared—then burst out laughing, loud and unrestrained.
"I can't believe this! You killed a monster with a sword but you can't drive a car?"
"Hey, it's not funny," he said, trying to look serious, but ended up laughing too.
Wiping tears from her eyes, she climbed into the driver's seat. "It's fine, hero. I'll drive."
"You can?"
"Of course," she said with a confident grin. "My dad taught me when I was fifteen. Guess that finally pays off."
Lucas slid into the passenger seat, watching the golden sunlight stretch across the ruins. For the first time in days, the horizon didn't look threatening.
Megan turned the key.
The engine roared, shattering the city's stillness.
They both held their breath.
Nothing moved outside. No monsters.
She pressed the accelerator gently. The car rolled forward, tires crunching over glass and dust.
"So, where to, copilot?" she asked, eyes on the road.
Lucas unfolded José's map over his lap. "Route 90. North, then east."
"Washington, then," Megan said firmly.
Lucas nodded, the spark of determination returning to his gaze. "Washington. And whatever waits along the way."
The car glided down the empty highway, leaving Chicago's ashes behind.
In the distance, smoke columns faded into the gray sky.
Their journey had only begun.
---
The sun was dipping low again, painting the highway orange.
They'd been driving for hours, the hum of the engine their only companion. Signs were rusted or buried in dust; the white lines on the asphalt had nearly vanished.
Then Lucas spotted something ahead—a military vehicle flipped on its side. Smoke still trickled from the hood; the windshield shattered.
"Stop," he said quietly.
Megan slowed to a halt. Tires squealed softly in the emptiness.
Lucas stepped out, katana slung on his back. The smell of metal and dried blood hit him immediately. Inside the wreck, three soldiers lay twisted, flung apart by some explosion. Their faces were unrecognizable.
"God…" Megan whispered, covering her mouth.
Lucas crouched by one of the bodies. The bulletproof vest was intact. He unbuckled it and strapped it over his jacket, tightening it down.
"This could save our lives," he said.
Megan shook her head. "I… I can't wear that."
"You don't have a choice." He held out another vest. "If one of those things shows up, you'll thank me."
She hesitated, then nodded. Pulling off her coat, she slipped the vest on—it hung loose, but Lucas helped adjust it. His hands brushed her sides by accident; she blushed and looked away.
"There," he said softly, smiling.
They searched the rest of the vehicle. In the back they found an M4 rifle with two nearly full magazines, and a pistol with half a dozen rounds. Lucas checked the weight and condition.
"Looks like luck's with us today."
Megan eyed him warily. "You even know how to use those?"
"I worked in demolitions. Got some basic training," he said, loading the rifle and slinging it across his shoulder. "Not a soldier, but it'll do."
They got back in and kept driving. The sky darkened fast; shadows stretched long across the road. The air grew colder with each passing mile.
When night fully fell, Lucas pointed ahead. "We need shelter. Driving with headlights will get us killed."
They found a collapsed bridge over what used to be a river—now only cracked earth and stones. Megan parked beneath the broken structure, covering the car with a torn tarp from the trunk. Then they carried their bags down under the bridge.
The silence there was deep, almost peaceful. Only the wind whispered through the rubble.
"We'll be fine here," Lucas said, switching on a small flashlight. "No fire. No need to attract attention."
He unrolled a sleeping bag—thick, sturdy, with José stitched into the fabric.
Megan eyed it, then him. "Only one?"
"Yeah," he said, pulling off his boots. "José left it behind. I meant to find another, but… well, the world ended first."
She smiled awkwardly. "Then you take it. I'll sleep outside."
"No way." Lucas shook his head. "The cold will kill you faster than the monsters. Get in."
Megan's cheeks flushed. "Lucas, we'll barely fit."
He grinned. "You always end up inching closer from the cold anyway. What's different this time?"
She glared but laughed softly. "You're an idiot. Fine—but if you move too much, I'll kick you out."
"Deal."
They slid into the sleeping bag, backs pressed together at first. Warmth spread quickly, chasing the chill. For a while, they said nothing—just breathed in sync.
"Lucas," she whispered.
"Mm?"
"What did you do before all this?"
He sighed. "Worked in demolitions. Been in this country three years. Was supposed to go home in December… but the world fell apart first."
She turned slightly to face him. "You had family back there?"
"My mother. Just her." His voice lowered. "Haven't heard anything. My friend José—the one who owned this—was evacuated to Washington. I plan to find him… and then find a way home. I need to know if my mother's alive."
Megan studied him in the dim light, seeing the exhaustion behind his eyes. Her throat tightened. "You'll make it," she said softly. "I know you will."
Lucas smiled faintly. "What about you? Before all this?"
"I was studying biology at university," she said. "Lived with my parents in a big house with a garden. Weekends out, friends, parties, trips… a perfect life. And then—" her voice broke "—it all collapsed in days. I lost contact with them. My city just… disappeared."
Lucas stayed quiet, listening.
"Sometimes I think I'm still dreaming," she whispered. "That this can't be real. But then I see you, breathing beside that sword, and I remember it is."
He chuckled softly. "What a comforting reminder."
"I guess you're my anchor," she said, blushing.
He turned slightly toward her. "Then don't let go yet."
Megan smiled and curled closer, resting her head near his chest.
The distance between them vanished. Outside, the wind sighed across the ruins, and two heartbeats fell into the same rhythm.
For the first time in a long while, neither of them dreamed about the end of the world.