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I woke to the sound of static crackling in my ear and Her voice slicing through the fog in my head like a scalpel, sharp and unwelcome.

"Gabe, decryption is complete."

For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. My brain struggled to catch up—the cold concrete biting into my back, the faint hum of dying servers around me, the stale air thick with dust, decay, and regret. The weight of exhaustion pinned me down as my senses slowly dragged themselves online. Then it all came rushing back like a bad dream I couldn’t shake, the kind that sticks to your ribs long after you open your eyes and makes you wish you hadn't.

The research center. The data. The ghost I’d been chasing across a dead world. And now, finally, a sliver of progress wrapped in the same old hopelessness.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, if you could even call it sleep. It felt more like passing out with a side of existential dread and concrete-induced back pain. My fingers were still wrapped around the photograph, knuckles white like I was afraid it would vanish if I let go. A picture of the man who doomed us all—and maybe the only person left who could undo any of it. Or at least explain why he thought playing god was a good idea, as if there was ever a good excuse for global genocide in a lab coat.

"Tell me you found something worth all this," I muttered, my voice hoarse from breathing in hours of stale air and shattered illusions, like every word had to crawl its way out.

"I have isolated some files contain information about the lead researcher of Seraphin. It seems he is referred to as Dr. Hale."

I blinked, trying to process the words through the mental sludge thick enough to drown in. "Dr. Hale?”

"Correct. CC’d in many emails, however he is only referred to as Dr. Hale. A full name eludes my scans. Another thing of note, it seems he was working out of his house. The address however is not included anywhere."

I let out a bitter laugh, the sound bouncing off lifeless walls and echoing back like it was mocking me. "Of course. The man responsible for wiping out humanity was working from home. Probably in his pajamas, sipping coffee while rewriting our DNA between Zoom calls."

"Efficiency is key in corporate environments. Would you like me to take you to the research center?"

"Yeah..." I sighed, dragging myself upright like a corpse reanimating out of spite. "Upload the route."

The computer flickered weakly, Her interface marking a point far to the north—deep into what used to be countryside. Now it was just miles of emptiness and concrete, where even the echoes had died off and hope went to starve.

I scanned the ruined warehouse one last time—the shattered screens and remnants of ambition turned graveyard. This place once held the future of billions in its sterile hands. Now, it was just dust, decay, and forgotten sins buried beneath corporate slogans.

I stuffed the blueprints into my jacket like it was a compass pointing toward closure—or revenge. Not that I knew which one I was after anymore. Maybe both. Maybe neither. Maybe I just needed something to chase so I wouldn’t have to think.

Walking back outside felt like crawling out of a grave that didn’t want to let go. Every step up those darkened stairs dragged at me, the weight of exhaustion, futility, and a creeping sense that none of this would matter pressing harder than the air itself.

Her voice filled the suffocating silence like it always did, a lifeline wrapped in condescension.

"The journey will cover approximately 400 miles. Fuel supplies are insufficient for a direct route. Resource scarcity is imminent. Satellite scans indicate multiple structural collapses along primary roads. Rerouting will be frequent and dangerous."

"So... business as usual," I muttered, my breath fogging in the stale air that tasted like rust and disappointment.

"If by 'usual' you mean statistically fatal, then yes."

When I finally shoved open the rusted door, the outside world greeted me with a blast of cold air sharp enough to sting and fading daylight that felt more like a warning than a welcome. The sky bled orange and purple, bruised and battered like the world itself was on life support.

I staggered toward my car, and slid into the driver’s seat, half-expecting it to finally give up and die like everything else had.

But the engine coughed to life—barely holding on, just like me.

"Stupid piece of junk," I muttered, patting the dashboard like it was a wounded animal too stubborn to roll over. "You’re too stubborn to die, huh?"

I pulled onto the fractured highway, tires crunching over debris, shattered glass, and faded lines that didn’t lead anywhere anymore. The road stretched endlessly ahead, less like a journey and more like a slow crawl toward whatever punchline fate had waiting at the end of this cosmic joke.

Chasing ghosts.

That’s all this was. A suicidal scavenger hunt for a man who might already be a corpse, or worse, alive and as hollow as the world he broke. A man with answers I wasn’t sure I wanted but couldn’t stop myself from seeking.

Her voice chimed in, ever the voice of unwelcome reason, programmed politeness wrapped around brutal honesty.

"Would you like me to calculate projected survival rates based on current conditions?"

"Nah, surprise me," I said, gripping the wheel tighter like that would keep the world from falling apart.

"Very well. Expect disappointment."

The sky darkened with every mile, the ruins of gas stations, motels, and skeletal towns passing by like tombstones of a civilization that didn’t know when to quit. Places where life used to happen. Now, they were just empty shells, reminders that no one was coming back and nothing was waiting ahead but more of the same.

I caught glimpses of old signs—faded advertisements peeling away, promises of futures that never arrived. "Stay Safe with Seraphin!" One of them still clung to a collapsed billboard, half-burned but legible enough to twist the knife in my gut.

"Yeah... safe," I muttered under my breath, the word tasting like ash.

Her voice broke the silence again, as relentless as ever.

"Your heart rate has increased. Elevated stress levels detected. Would you like breathing exercises?"

"Unless you can breathe for me, I’ll pass."

The road stretched on, indifferent to my sarcasm, uncaring of my existence. Just mile after mile of empty promises and decaying dreams. Occasionally I stopped to siphon what little gas I could get from abandoned cars. The monotony of it all gnawed at my will to go on.

But I couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when I was this far gone.

Because if that ghost had answers, if he had anything that could justify this nightmare, I needed to hear it. Even if I already knew deep down that no explanation would make it better.

Even if I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to find salvation—or just someone to blame for the fact that I was still breathing in a world that didn’t want me.