Rusty World

In the middle of a vast wasteland, where miles of twisted metal stretch to the horizon and the smell of rust fills the air, some would feel sadness, others might lose hope, and a few would feel abandoned.

But even in this hostile environment, Orion walked with a purpose. To him, that reddish metal shell held unexplored treasures beneath.

His smile faded into worry as he felt the wind pick up. His eyes fixed on a weathered radio tower. Bravely, he used only his right arm and legs to climb the rusty ladder, the wind blowing stronger by the second.

From the top, he spotted large, dark clouds gathering in the distance.

“Looks like rain will hit soon,” Orion thought.

A few kilometers away lay a silent town—his destination.

“I’ll make it in time.”

Climbing down, he quickened his pace.

Wind howled through the empty houses as Orion moved through the streets, catching glimpses of what once had been: rusty cars, scattered trash, and abandoned homes.

He took out a thin glass goggle from his bag and put it on, revealing a blue mesh over the town, painting the many abandoned houses a reddish color. The only one that was blue was a large building in the middle of the city.

The entrance was blocked by two metal plates. He felt the first raindrops and knew he had to hurry. With a strained push, he used his metal left arm to slide one of the plates aside, opening a narrow path.

Inside, the sound of rain was muffled and Orion’s footsteps echoed through the dark corridors. He activated the built-in small flashlight in his goggles. The floor was covered with dust, and several footprints were visible.

“Only one part is left for me to check,” he thought, heading down the footprint-free corridor.

Broken glass and shattered signs littered the ground, suggesting abandonment. Orion read a worn sign on the ground: "Supermarket.”

That cheered the boy up.

“There might be food in there.”

Scattered shopping carts, broken cash registers, and a few coins lay strewn across the floor. Orion collected the coins.

“They’re worthless now, but maybe I’ll find a use for them.”

Searching aisle by aisle, Orion found mostly broken or empty shelves, though he managed to gather adhesive tape, lubricating oil, lighters, and fertilizer.

“There has to be food somewhere.”

He found some, but it was spoiled and unsafe to eat. Eventually, he gathered five bottles of water and a bottle of wine.

His hope remained undimmed.

In the canned goods section, Orion found a small can of beans and got so excited that he accidentally bumped his head while standing.

Returning to the entrance, he bumped into a pile of boxes and lifted his eyes to see a faded poster of two boys laughing and holding a walkie-talkie.

"Have fun with your friend," it read.

The little boy looked around at the silence; it was painfully empty. His eyes filled with tears. He reached out to take one of the boxes, only to close his fist when it was close.

“Take only what you need to survive,” he reminded himself.

He turned and took a few steps away, but the pull in his chest made him pause. He turned back, grabbed a few boxes, and stuffed them into his bag before beginning the long walk home.

As night approached, Orion reached a familiar intersection of houses. White flags with a green circle and cross marked the walls.

He opened one of the doors and called out,

“I'm back, Boreas!”

"Orion! Welcome!" replied a thin old man with disheveled gray hair, his voice relieved. "Are you hungry? How about I make some plasma soup?"

Orion wrinkled his nose, but smiled and pulled the can of beans out of his pocket.

"We're having a real feast tonight."

Eating by candlelight, Boreas asked,

"Will you be watching the war tomorrow?"

Orion looked away.

"I must go. If I'm lucky, maybe they'll leave something useful behind." He tried to sound optimistic. "If I'm really lucky, I might even find a seed."

Boreas grinned and raised his hands.

"I'll work on the greenhouse! Tomorrow will be THE day!"

Orion stored the water and wine in the kitchen and the other items in a small improvised workshop in the garage. His heart raced when he saw the walkie-talkie boxes.

Orion closed the door before opening it, frustration growing as none of them worked.

The boy grunted and kicked the table in anger.

"Are you okay, Orion?" Boreas called, sounding worried.

"Yeah, I just banged my arm!"

Orion had given up. After making sure that the boxes wouldn't be easy to find, he went to his room and turned off the light. He lay down and slept.

The next day dawned clear, and if it weren't for the wind, which continued to blow relentlessly, it would have been intensely hot. Orion approached a massive grave hidden in a nearby trench. He scanned the area with his goggles and saw metal debris strewn about, most of the paint intact.

"I don't see anyone."

He checked his watch. "Ten minutes left." His hands grew clammy as his anxiety increased.

Looking skyward, he noticed something strange. Two silver objects were falling. As his goggles focused on the larger one, he realized it wasn't just an object—it was a boy, about his own age.

Orion's heart raced. His mind screamed not to move; it was too dangerous, and there was little time left.

But his body was already moving. For a moment he thought of the poster in the supermarket, of something he longed for, even if it made no sense. The boy was probably doomed, but his feet kept running.

Navigating the rubble was exhausting, his breath ragged, his metal arm feeling heavier with each step.

Finally, he reached the impact site—a small crater for a small boy who, against all odds, was still alive!